


The Curse of Eternal Beauty

by Kuzuriolu



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fluff and Angst, Girls in Love, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Soulmates, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2020-11-22 14:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 48,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20875547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuzuriolu/pseuds/Kuzuriolu
Summary: Dorothea Arnault's life as a star upon the Mittelfrank Opera Company stage takes a dark turn when she is transformed into a vampire. Dreams crushed and broken, she attempts to find a way to deal with her new life, all while finding love in an unexpected place.





	1. Part One: When Dreams Shatter

**Author's Note:**

> Part One is heavily focused on angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Petra isn't really in Part One. This part is mostly focused on Dorothea's plight. Part Two will be almost all Doropetra goodness.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Beauty was only something that lasted so long.

Though Dorothea had been blessed with looks so beautiful and a voice so clear and moving that it could make a grown man cry, she knew it was all temporary. To fade and wither was to be human, and it was something all mortals must experience. No matter how long one spent trying to cling to youth, the cruel hands of time would soon grasp its hands around their neck. Hair would grow gray, bones would grow brittle, and beauty would all but vanish. The only ones who could escape such a fate were monsters.

Dorothea was born to a wealthy nobleman and his maid, a result of an affair. Shamed by his disloyalty, the nobleman tossed her upon the streets alongside her mother in order to cover up the evidence and bury the scandal. Dorothea was only six years old when her mother fell dreadfully ill and passed away, unable to afford care, leaving the small child to wander the streets of Enbarr. She spent her days begging for scraps and digging through trash for something, _ anything _ that was edible. It was only pure luck that she had managed to get out of that situation.

One day, she had been overheard singing behind the Mittelfrank Opera house by the star herself, Manuela Casagranda. Manuela had been taken aback by her shining talent, and offered to take her in as an appreciate. It was there that her life had taken a drastic turn. All of a sudden, she was a superstar songstress with thousands of adoring fans, traveling from all across Fódlan just to see her sing. Men were clambering to offer their hands in marriage, and she was flooded with gifts from potential suitors. But in the end, all they ever wanted her from her was her beauty. They cared not for the girl on the inside, and on the many first dates she had been on, they made it clear what they truly desired her for. 

Besides all that, she had far too many ill-intentioned men after her. She would never fail to notice shady figures in the audience watching her, waiting for their moment after the show to strike. She had fought off far too many kidnappers, attempted murderers, thieves, and all sorts of other horrible people who wished to keep Dorothea for their own. Her hope in the world had begun to diminish, but it was the love stories she had to enact that kept her going. Wonderful operas about those who found love despite all odds, and happy endings all around. 

Thus, Dorothea had a new dream: to find a man, wealthy and strong, who would take care of her for the rest of her life. A man who loved her for who she was, not for what she looked like, and a man who wouldn’t leave her when her skin wrinkled and her voice faded. It was a dream she clung to every day of her life, something she would fantasize about each night when the dozens of suitors had finished showering her with gifts after an astounding performance. 

But that dream was not meant to be.

It all came to a close one night, after the night had long began to linger. It was just after the final performance of one of their most ambitious operas to date, and Dorothea had been the grand star of the show. She had sung her heart out to the heavens, dressed in a white gown coated from head to toe in glistening gems. When she took center stage, the lights glimmering down upon her, she had resembled a goddess. The “oohs” and “aahs” from the crowd filled the entire room, and it was as though every person in Adrestia had been staring at her, watching, mesmerized by the beauty before them. It took about an hour and a half after the show before she could finally have some space from the hundreds of men who swarmed her, shouting out their proposals and thrusting upon her expensive gifts. Manuela had come, just for that special night despite having retired to become a nurse in the Imperial army a few years before, and had decided to distract the crowd so that her overwhelmed student could have a moment alone. It was everyone’s duty to clean up the stage after, so she had distracted herself with sweeping glitter off of the wooden floors. She tucked the garbage within a thin bag and made her way behind the Opera House to toss it, so that the cleaners could take it out tomorrow.

But she was not alone. 

What a foolish mistake it all was. 

After Dorothea had placed the garbage down, she turned on her heel to go back within the house, only to be met by a shadowy figure, looming in the alley. A tall man was staring at her, a smirk upon his face. 

She recognized him. One of her fans who never missed an opera show, but had never spoken to her before. He always sat in the back, never once taking his eyes off of her, never once talking to her. Though he would join the crowd of men showering her in gifts, he never had brought her anything.

Sensing danger, Dorothea took a deep breath. She always had a dagger strapped to her thigh, hidden by her dress, in case she had to defend herself. It had come in handy more than enough times. It would be easy enough to grab it from here. 

“Is there something you need?” Dorothea asked unsteadily. 

The man grinned. “Dorothea Arnault. How wonderful that we can finally meet,” he greeted, stepping closer to the woman.

In response, Dorothea stepped back. “My apologies, but after party has already ended. I can’t do autographs or anything like that right now,” she spoke. She was pretty sure that this man was dangerous, but she had to try to diffuse the situation first. “But we’re going to have another opera next month! I’ll be the star of that as well, so you can certainly ask me then…”

The shady man shook his head. “I’m not interested in such feeble things,” he insisted. Once again, he stepped forward, attempting to approach the girl who was quickly retreating down the alleyway. Unfortunately, he had cleverly positioned himself towards the entrance, and was backing her into a stone wall rather than to safety. “Such things will fade over time. It’s a shame, really.”

Dorothea’s face contorted in confusion. Of all the kidnappers she had faced, this one was absolutely the strangest. “I… I have to get back to work. There’s still more cleaning that needs to be done, so… Maybe we could spend some time together later?” An empty promise, but hopefully one that would free her of this situation.

“Oh, for you, my dear, there is no later,” hummed the man, getting ever closer. “Humans are so weak and feeble. Your beauty is astounding, like no other, but you will not have it forever. In a few short years, you will grow old, and your voice will fade away. All that will be left of your glory days will be fleeting memories in the minds of your fans, who will surely turn over their nose in disgust once they see how you’ve aged. It truly breaks my heart to think of it.”

Immediately, the songstress reached under her dress for the dagger, her heart pounding like never before. It was like the man could see into her very mind, voicing her inner anxieties that she had never dared to speak aloud to anyone except Manuela. Her back now pressed against the cold stone, she slipped her weapon from its hiding place, unsheathing it, allowing the blade to glisten in the pale moonlight. The mysterious man, however, looked completely unfazed. A hand reached out towards her, to stroke a lock of chocolate brown hair, which she immediately slapped away. 

“It’s far too cruel to see you wither,” he breathed out. “A beauty like you should be eternal.”

Clearly, this man was absolutely delusional. Dorothea thrust the dagger forward to embed within the shadowy man’s stomach, but the man was lightning fast. Her wrist was caught in his hand before she had even gotten the chance to strike, and she gasped. She had never, ever seen someone move so quickly. With a push, he pinned her against the stone wall, the dagger dropping from her clutches and clattering to the floor. A sickening grin painted his face as he admired the beautiful woman before him, now completely at his mercy. He slunk himself down to the floor, pulling Dorothea with him so that they were at equal level. A slithering finger stroked her neck, tracing the outline of her artery, the man humming to himself. 

“Don’t struggle now. I’ll make your fears go away,” he whispered into her ear, leaning closer. “I’ll make you forever beautiful.”

Dorothea opened her mouth to scream for help, but a hand slammed itself down upon her mouth. Her whole body was kicking, struggling, squirming as she rushed into full panic mode. For some reason, this man’s grip was like steel, and he barely seemed to budge against her protests. She was completely out of options. Fear and anxiety washed over her like never before as her heart went into a crazed rampage, mind rushing. She was going to die here, wasn’t she?

The man leaned into her, nose pressed to her neck. She felt the tips of sharp teeth graze her clear skin, and her eyes went wide. 

A vampire. He was a vampire.

Vampires were only the stuff of legends. Tales as old as time detailed human-like monsters who would never age and only feasted on the blood of humans. There were a few operas that included vampires, and Dorothea had heard a rumor or two that called their existence into question, but never had she ever thought that they might be right. Suddenly now _ very _ aware of what his words meant, the woman once again began to struggle, this time far more frantic. Every vampire tale without fail mentioned just what would happen to a human who was bitten and forced to drink the blood of a vampire. Her legs kicked and kicked, but the man did not react in the slightest. His red eyes were locked upon her pale neck, his mouth opening wide so that his pointy fangs could shine against the stars. 

It didn’t hurt very much. Dorothea only felt a slight prick as his two fangs burrowed their way into her neck. Her mind went hazy as she fell limp against his grip, eyes drooping. She could feel her blood being stolen from her into the throat of the beast hidden in the shape of a man. All she could do now was gaze at the night sky above and pray that someone would put a stop to all this.

But no help came. When the man dislodged his fangs from her neck, Dorothea felt dizzy from blood loss. He placed her down upon the floor and raised his wrist above her, the other hand grabbing the dagger that Dorothea had dropped. She was too tired to attempt to flee. The vampire used the dagger to slice open the palm of his hand, squeezing it, allowing hot red drops of blood to drop onto Dorothea’s face. 

Dorothea suddenly felt a burning sensation in her throat. It was oh so dry, and the glistening blood looked so welcoming. Her mind was screaming at her to stop, that consuming the blood of the vampire would lock her into an eternal life as a monster, but by the goddess was she thirsty. Her tongue darted out of her mouth like a serpent to lick the drops of blood by her lips, and when she did so, a temptingly sweet flavor flooded her mouth. It tasted like the finest nectar, and she wanted, no, _ needed _ more. Sensing her desire, the man cut a thin slice in the side of his wrist and held it out towards Dorothea, who eagerly grabbed at it like a starving child being offered food. She lapped at the crimson blood that rolled out, biting down into his pale skin with frustratingly dull teeth. If only she had sharp fangs she could bury deep into his flesh…! For now, she lavished in the feeling of her throat being soothed by sweet blood, no other thoughts on her mind except her desire to keep drinking the delicious nectar.

She almost growled in protest as the man forced his wrist away from her mouth. Drops of blood rolled down her chin, and she was left staring at him with shining red eyes.

“Good,” he praised her. “It seems you already know what you have to do.” With that, he stood, gazing down at her with a malicious smile. Pearly white fangs still dripping with her blood shone down, seemingly illuminated by the stars. “I should take my leave before someone finds me. It will take a while before you change... But don’t forget, dear Dorothea, the face of the man who gifted you with life eternal. A far better gift than what any of those pitiful noblemen have given you.”

With that, the man turned and left, seemingly vanishing completely into the darkness. Dorothea, still in a daze, watched him leave without a single word. It took a few minutes before she snapped from her stupor, realizing that she was still upon the alley floor with blood all over her face, a bite mark in her neck. The gravity of what had just happened suddenly hit her like a stampeding horse, and she gasped out.

What was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t tell anyone what had happened to her. They would never believe her, or if they did, think her a monster. What if they tried to kill her? She felt sick to her stomach, the contents threatening to spill back up. She stood upon shaky legs and clenched her fists tightly, trying not to burst into tears. She would not allow herself to cry, not here, not now. 

Without another thought, she dragged herself back into the opera house and slunk towards the back, attempting to escape unnoticed. She slipped by groups of fans, still awe-struck by the sight of so many talented actors, and trudged through the night. 

The room she was renting was not far from the opera house, only about a five minute’s walk. When she walked in the door, she immediately dragged herself towards the giant mirror she usually utilized to adorn herself in make-up and opened her mouth wide, poking at the top row of teeth. Though they were stained red with the blood she had drunk, they looked like regular, human teeth, and her eyes were a normal shade of emerald green. Absolutely nothing about her looked different other than the fang marks upon her neck, which she concealed with one of her chokers. 

In her green eyes, she could see her exhaustion reflected back. All she could do was collapse upon the bed and bury her face into the red sheets, hoping to wake up and find that everything had been nothing but a nightmare. 

* * *

The man had been right. She didn’t change, at least not right away. For the first few days following the incident, absolutely nothing happened. It was as though it really _ had _been a nightmare. Dorothea almost thought it was, if it weren’t for the very real bite mark that was still firmly embedded in her neck. She continued about her days as normal, practicing for upcoming operas, hoping that perhaps the transformation had just completely failed. Maybe the man had missed a vital step, or she hadn’t drank enough of his blood. 

His blood… it tasted so sweet, so nourishing. Dorothea hadn’t forgotten how delicious it was, and everytime she flashed back to it, her throat would constrict and grow unbearably dry. The bite mark would begin to itch like an annoying bug bite, and her mind would drift into dark places. How frustrating it was that she couldn’t obtain more of that sweet goodness with such terribly dull teeth. Oh how she wished her fangs would grow in faster so that she could find an unsuspecting human to sink her teeth into and drain dry. She growled deeply at the thought, brain swirling with monstrous desire. 

“Dorothea?” a voice echoed out to her, forcing her from her thoughts. Across from her sat another opera company member, who was going over lines with her. She had been rehearsing a monologue when Dorothea’s thoughts had drifted into darker places. “Are… you alright? You’ve been scratching your neck and making weird noises…”

“Oh?” Dorothea muttered. Her hand drifted from the choker-covered bite and onto her lap, and she forced herself to smile. “Oh, don’t worry about me! I’m fine. A bug bit me a few nights ago, and it’s been ever so itchy.”

“Is that so?” the woman replied, craning her head to get a view of Dorothea’s neck. Fortunately, there was nothing she could see. “Summer is always like that, isn’t it? It would be perfect if it weren’t for those dastardly mosquitos. What are we to them, blood banks?”

Dorothea laughed nervously at the woman’s joke. “I know, right?” she said, but her mind was now elsewhere. Really, what were humans but banks of blood? Emerald eyes drifted towards her co-star’s neck. She was suddenly oh so aware of the other heart beat in the room, and she could hear the rushing of blood as clear as day. What would her blood taste like? Would it be different from her sire’s? Perhaps everyone’s blood was different, but she would never know unless she explored the idea for herself. Maybe if she could get the other woman to prick her finger, or even “accidentally” cut her with a prop while they were practicing a fight scene. Just a drop of blood would do, wouldn’t it? A small drop to cure the dry itch at the back of her throat, begging for sweet nourishment… 

When she realized where her thoughts were heading, the songstress shot up in her seat, heart thrumming in panic. “Actually… would you mind if we cut practice a bit short today?” she requested suddenly. “I actually think I’m coming down with a little something. My throat’s all sore.”

“Well, we can’t have that!” gasped the other woman. “What if you were to lose your voice? The star of our opera, unable to sing… it would be a nightmare!”

“Exactly!” agreed Dorothea, feeling a bead of nervous sweat roll from her forehead. 

“Go on now! You must take care of yourself! The director will be very cross if something happens to you!” insisted her co-star, shooing Dorothea away. 

How lucky she was, Dorothea thought to herself as she scrambled to grab her things and hurry from the opera house. As she made her way back towards her rented apartment, she did not miss how the uncovered sun shining above seemed to nip at her skin, searing it with an uncomfortable burn. The hot sun only spurred her to dash faster, her body screaming for the solace of shade. 

The first thing she did upon entering her room was to draw the curtains over the windows, providing much needed relief for her sensitive skin. Her hands traced over her uncovered shoulders, wincing at the scathed skin, pain still fresh. The songstress stood in front of her grand mirror, finding blemishes all over her exposed skin from the sun’s rays. Her whole body was beginning to ache horribly, especially her mouth. Her gums felt sore, raw, and when she exposed them to the mirror, she saw that they were incredibly red. Her canine teeth throbbed with unbearable pain which flared up and left her feeling worn out. It was though the day was sapping her very essence away.

With a tired groan, Dorothea made her way towards her kitchen and fished a box of cookies out from the cabinet. Perhaps indulging herself in some sweets would lift her spirits and finally do away with the hunger that seemed to linger within the pits of her stomach. When she placed the treat upon her tongue, she tasted none of the sweet chocolate nor the buttery crumbles, only something akin to sand. The chocolate bore no flavor but had a grimy texture that felt like slime upon her tongue, not at all like the distinguished flavor that few besides nobles ever got to experience. She forced herself to swallow down the mixture of revulsion, hoping that it would at least soothe her hunger, if only a bit. 

But the effort was futile. No matter how many flavorless cookies she swallowed, she still felt unsatisfied. She even tried a few other snacks she had lying about for special occasions, but found that they too felt like dirt upon her changing tongue. She flung her head back over her shoulders and gritted her aching teeth together in frustration. Absolutely nothing was helping.

Defeated, the girl flopped over upon her bed and allowed the blankets to swallow her, hiding her from the few beams of sun that yet still shone through her curtains. Her throat was burning, her mouth searing with pain, her entire body trembling and _ changing. _

Oh god. She was changing, and _ quickly _.

Drops of salty tears spilled forth upon her red sheets as frustration overcame her. She didn’t want to become a monster, doomed to stalk within the night and chained by an overwhelming bloodlust, never growing old, never getting ill, remaining frozen in time like a sculpture. Though the promise of everlasting beauty was tempting, Dorothea had been tethered to the idea of a fairytale marriage, consisting of two destined lovers interlocked together, growing old and caring for each other, finally dying side by side. Suddenly, the fantasy of a man who loved her enough to care for her when she was old was forced to shrivel. Now, she needed to find someone who was also immortal and willing to spend the rest of eternity with her, loyal like a wolf. 

Her tears carried her on until she was dry of them and could stay awake no longer. Emerald eyes closed themselves, so horribly exhausted, body crying out for rest. Once again, she prayed that she would soon awake from this nightmare.

* * *

Awaken she did, but from the nightmare she did not. When her eyes shot open, she found that the world had become encased by night, only the faint glimmers of moonlight shining through her curtains. Though her body was still ebbing in pain, she found new vigor the darkness, and found the will to stand up. An overwhelming burning sensation in her oh so dry throat was all she could think about as she threw the curtains back, revealing the distant stars lighting the depths of the night. It had to be past midnight, Dorothea estimated. Her skin no longer burnt, but rather relished in the faint moonlight. 

Still, she could ignore the stinging in her mouth no longer. Her throat was begging to be nourished, and her gums burning. Without thinking, she flung her cabinets open and began to flood her mouth with water from her canister, desperate for the dry feeling to banish itself, but found no savior in the normally thirst-quenching fluid. Hands ravaged through her cabinets for something, _ anything _ that could finally free her, but all was for naught. Irritation boiled in her empty stomach as her hand reached up for her neck, peeling the choker back, digging her nails into the bite mark that still had yet to heal. It was so, so very _ itchy _. 

Itchy… itchy… itchy…

Half delirious, the songstress once again grasped for her canister and forced more water down her throat, only to be met by an unpleasant feeling in the back of her throat. She nearly gagged as she felt something lodging itself within, and she quickly spluttered the contents out into her other hand.

Though her vision was still dizzy, she could make out exactly the source of her sudden choking fit. In the palm of her hand lay a pair of canine teeth, pointed yet far too dull for her new body. Dorothea let out a cry of shock and dropped them upon the floor, backing herself up into her mirror. It nearly tilted over, threatening to shatter upon the ground, but fast thinking meant that Dorothea caught it before it could do so. She found that the normally heavy grand mirror felt like absolutely nothing in her arms, and she pushed it back up with ease. Though she dreaded what she would see within, she forced herself to gaze at her reflection.

What she found staring back at her was a woman with glowing red eyes, pale, _ starving. _ Pulling back her top lip with a finger, Dorothea saw sharp, pearly white fangs reflected within. She opened her mouth properly to get a better look at them, finding that they were perfectly formed and sharp to the touch. Though she wished to react in horror, the only thought that echoed back within her brain was _ Good. They’re perfect. _Such tools would make ripping into her meal’s neck easy. 

Panic struck through her body, and she found herself wishing she could cry, but no tears would escape, for they had all been used. There was no turning back now: she was a monster. The crushing anxiety that encased her felt all too much, especially in the confined apartment, and she found herself dashing for the exit, as if to escape the monster in the mirror. She found herself upon the late night streets of Enbarr, dark and quiet save for the echoes of late night tavern attendees down the alleys. Though only the candles dangling from entrances lit the darkness, Dorothea found it was no hindrance to her new nocturnal vision. Lost and lonely with only her dark thoughts to entertain her, the songstress found herself weaving through alleyways and streets, hoping that wandering would clear her head. 

But despite the darkness, she was not alone.

It wasn’t long before the opera singer was confronted by a half drunken man exiting a tavern, who broke out into smiles at the sight of the famous Dorothea Arnault. He wasted not the opportunity to creep towards her, eyes gleaming with desire. “Good evening, Miss Dorothea Arnault!” he greeted her all too enthusiastically. “One doesn’t expect to see a beauty wandering the streets at this hour.”

_ Ah, _ she thought to herself, grimacing. Of course she could not expect to be all alone in Enbarr, where parties fueled by alcohol raged throughout the night. When Manuela had been apart of the company, she had attended many herself, and had created quite a reputation by downing far too many drinks after a date had turned sour. Such activities were especially prominent around the opera house, and given the proximity to the building, it was obvious that this man was a frequent attendee. 

“Well, I was just getting home after a late night practice,” she lied, hoping to sweep this encounter away before it could evolve into anything else. “It’s not easy being a songstress, you know. Plenty of singing to do, and our next opera will be opening in a month. Why don’t you come talk to me then?”

The young man seemed insistent on not letting this rare opportunity slip through his fingers. “But the both of us are right here now, alone! Surely I won’t get this opportunity to talk to you one on one again.” The eager fan approached quickly, not leaving much space between the two of them. “I’m one of your biggest fans, you know. I think about you all the time.”

“Oh, how… lovely,” Dorothea replied unenthusiastically. Absolutely not the most flattering pick-up line she had heard, if one could even call it that. 

Her fan beamed at the woman with hopeful eyes. “I think about our married life together. We’d be so perfect for each other,” he continued onwards. “I’ve wanted to marry you since the moment I first laid eyes on you. I’d treat you way better than any of those other guys, trust me.”

And that was certainly not the first time she had heard that one. Dorothea’s dry throat constricted as she looked at the man in front of her. “I’m not interested, sorry,” she dismissed him. While at times she would entertain the thought of trying him out on a date, with her thoughts already clouded with all the horrible happenstances, she could not even fathom going out with anyone. Besides, if he too were not an immortal monster, his efforts would be wasteful.

At the rejection, the man’s expression soured immediately. “Come on. Just try me, love,” he persisted. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“No thank you,” Dorothea answered immediately. She had far more concerns to detail with than a man who wished to bed her, so she opted to turn around and simply walk off aimlessly. 

She dipped towards a barely illuminated alleyway as thoughts swirled around in her brain, still trying to make sense of her newfound situation. It was so odd, wandering at night and yet seeing things as though it was morning. She was trying her best to ignore the persistent hunger that engulfed her, whispering to her desire she didn’t wish to indulge in. She was so distracted that she did not hear the frenzy of footsteps quickly approaching her.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and whipped her around. The fan from before, clearly angered by her stark rejection, stood before her, dagger in hand and an enraged look painted upon his face. He snarled. “You bitch!” he swore. “I knew you were nothing but a common whore underneath that facade! I’m gonna kill you!” 

How quickly the so-called nice ones turn, Dorothea thought to herself, more annoyed at the situation than afraid. She had faced far too many potential murderers to find these situations anything but a hindrance. 

When the man raised his hand to plummet the knife directly into Dorothea’s heart, she reacted as quick as lightning. She grabbed his arm at an inhuman speed, so quickly that it was all said and done within the blink of an eye. As she had been so taught by Manuela, she jerked his arm down with a loud, resounding _ crack _, followed by a high pitched scream that she never thought a man of his size could emit. A string of curses flooded from his mouth as he doubled over in pain, arm completely shattered and useless. A stream of tears flowed down from his face from the sheer pain that invaded him, and Dorothea was left shocked at her own strength. Though she had broken a handful of arms before, this was the first time one shattered quite like that. She flipped her hand over and gazed at the stark white palms, wondering to herself if this too was a result of her transformation.

In the moment that she had used to ponder her changes, the man had taken as an opportunity. Despite his pain, he had juggled his dagger to his other arm and jutted it into Dorothea’s exposed heel, grinning through tears as he did so. As the blade embedded itself deeply within her flesh, the vampire was shocked to find that she felt absolutely nothing besides a tickle, not even a twinge of pain. Blank eyes looked down at her attacker, and his grin faded into confusion when he noticed her lack of reaction.

“What… what the fuck?” he growled. “I just stabbed you, bitch! Why are you looking at me like that!”

Dorothea wasn’t even quite sure herself. Her mouth opened to form a reply, but shut when she realized she needed none. This was all just a waste of her time. Her attacker had been disabled, it was time to move on. But despite having a broken arm, it seemed that the assailant wasn’t willing to give up. He pried the knife from Dorothea’s ankle and shakily and uncomfortably stood to his feet, the one arm hanging uselessly from his side. Feeling rather ticked off at this point, Dorothea opted to simply push the man, but what was supposed to be a gentle shove turned out to be much, much different. Still unaccustomed to her strength, the songstress ended up slamming her hands into his chest, sending him flying like a ragdoll into the brick wall. The impact dented the wall behind him, and he slid down to the stone floor uselessly, blood pouring from his wounds.

Blood.

Dorothea wanted to turn and leave, but she could not. She was glued to the ground, eyes locked to the thick, red fluid that seeped out upon the ground. Subconsciously, her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Like a moth to a flame, the newly turned vampire approached the injured man, dropping upon her knees before him. A silky hand ran down his cheek, to the crook of his neck. The man was mumbling things in confusion, but none of his words reached Dorothea’s ears. 

He would surely be dead anyway, wouldn’t he? Just a sip wouldn’t hurt, just to soothe her desperate throat.

Dorothea craned her mouth to his neck, new fangs tickling the sensitive skin. She could hear his blood rushing like a waterfall, echoing in her mind. Her entire body was craving a taste, and she no longer could hold herself back. In just a heartbeat, her fangs embedded themselves into her victim’s neck. 

Immediately, a delicious taste flooded her mouth. Her eyes lit up a bright red as she lost herself to her meal, her hand going to cover the man’s mouth so he could not scream. Though the taste was far from being as sweet as her sire’s nectar, the subdued and salty flavor would do for now. Her throat felt as though it was being rejuvenated, as though the blood was medicine, and she found herself unable to stop. What was supposed to be just a taste turned into a full on meal as she drank away at the squirming man’s neck, muffled cries escaping his throat. The only word she could make out through the cage that was her hand was “monster.”

She drank and drank, until there was no more left to drink. She pulled away from his neck as the now lifeless body flopped limply to the ground, dead as a doornail. Blood rolled down her chin and dripped onto her throat, eyes still a deep red, fangs caked in crimson. Her tongue jutted out to lick the perimeter of her mouth, taking in the last of her meal. She lapped at drops of blood clinging to her fingertips and relished in the feeling of finally being free of her aches and pains.

Now, she was overcome with the feeling of power, as though by drinking blood she had absorbed all of his energy. She was an unstoppable force, a raging storm, a wild tiger. Her whole body was alight with vigor, and she suddenly felt as though she was able to do absolutely anything. She bounced to her feet like a rabbit and wiped away the remains of blood, hoping to the goddess she would look presentable enough not to alert anyone who happened to walk by her, or maybe it would be better if she just didn’t encounter anyone. 

As her high from bloodlust faded, Dorothea was struck by the realization that she had just _ murdered _ someone. Eyes that had faded back to emerald grew wide at the sight of the still corpse, all warmth having vanished. Even though that man would have killed her if she had not struck back, she had never in her life done anything other than break her assailants’ arms. 

She was a murderer now.

Dizzy with the thought, Dorothea backed into a wall and held her head in her hand. Though long ago she had prepared herself for the idea of taking someone’s life should the situation arise, nothing felt as raw and real as it actually _ happening _. Her teeth ground together in frustration, fangs still red from her meal. No, she could not cry over this man. She would not allow it. She had shed far too many tears in the last hour to allow herself to cry for a man who tried to murder her first.

Besides, this was only the beginning of her new, eternal life.

* * *

As the days went on, Dorothea fell into a rhythm. During the day, she would practice for her upcoming opera, dancing upon the stage as though nothing was wrong and singing out to the heavens. During the night, she would stalk the streets of Enbarr, a nocturnal huntress who feared not the dark and slithered through alleyways, looking for trouble. She needed not stalk her prey. They would come to her. 

But she could not contain her bloodlust. Enamored men who she preyed on in the moonlight would always die at her hands, crumpling into nothingness as she drank every last drop greedily. She would leave the corpses scattered in the alleyway, daring not to look back at them. It wasn’t enough, it was never enough. The dull taste of blood from lowly thieves could not compare to the sweetness she once knew, and her vampiric self sought desperately for a parallel. She found herself feasting upon human after human, leaving the streets near the Mittelfrank Opera Company red with blood and fresh corpses. It was sloppy of her, but she didn’t care. If she was caught, so be it.

She had always hated herself, but now, she hated herself more than ever.

* * *

“Lady Edelgard. A situation has arisen.”

A voice echoed out from the shadows of the Imperial base, looming upon the Emperor, who lay seated in a rather comfortable plush chair decorated with red and gold fabric. A book in her hand closed upon hearing the call of her loyal servant, though she did not look over her shoulder. There was no need to.

“Oh? Do go on, Hubert,” encouraged the Emperor Edelgard, intrigued.

“It seems that we have a vampire problem in Enbarr.”

Now it was time for Edelgard to turn. The emperor, clad in robes of red, gazed into the shadows and found her sinister companion within. Bright yellow eyes like a cat’s gleamed through the dark, never blinking. “A vampire problem?” she inquired. “How odd.”

“Are you sure?” a loud voice butted in. Across from the lady Edelgard sat Ferdinand von Aegir, long orange hair draped over the back of his seat. “And here I thought _ you _had successfully done away with any vampires that were not yourself, Hubert.”

Hubert scowled at the ever obnoxious prime minister to be. “Occasionally, a few sneak in and spread their cursed blood to others, but the situation is hardly extreme. Judging by the amount of corpses and their frequency, I suspect it is only a lone vampire at fault. Regardless, many have complained of finding gray, bloodless corpses in the alleyways. It’s best we take care of our lone vampire before it chooses to sire offspring,” he continued, doing his best to ignore Ferdinand’s unwarranted comments. 

“How widespread is the issue?” Edelgard asked further.

“It seems our vampire does not stray far from its nest. All of the corpses have been found around the Mittelfrank Opera Company.”

Once again, Ferdinand found reason to interrupt. “The Mittelfrank Opera Company?” he spluttered. “I’ll not have that! The company is going to be putting on one of my favorite operas in a week’s time!”

“Thank you for your input, Ferdinand,” remarked Hubert sarcastically.

“Perhaps it’s best if we go investigate ourselves,” Edelgard suggested. “If Ferdinand is planning on going to the opera anyways, we may uncover something if we choose to visit together.”

“A fine idea, Lady Edelgard,” the vampire servant decided. “If we are to investigate there, we will need someone who has inside knowledge. Perhaps Manuela could join us.”

The emperor tapped a glove-clad hand to her chin, pondering the suggestion. “If there’s anyone who knows anything about it in the opera company, I’m sure Manuela can get them to spill their secrets.”

Ferdinand looked overcome by the idea. The man had been a long time fan of the opera, wasting no opportunity to go see it ever since he was a child, enamored by the extravagant music and flashy stages. “Then it’s settled! The four of us can go to the Opera, but— oh, wait! Can I bring Petra as well?”

“Petra?” repeated Hubert, frowning. “Why do you ever want to bring a prisoner alongside us to the opera?”

“Well, it’s just that… she’s been the Empire’s hostage for almost eight years now, and she’s never gotten to see the Opera! I want her to be able to see it for herself instead of just spending her life holed up inside of that prison room. I’ve been talking to her about it, and she seemed really interested,” Ferdinand explained, eyes alight with excitement. “It wouldn’t hurt to bring her at all! She could sit with me and just watch, she won’t be a bother.”

Edelgard hesitated. It was true that poor Petra had spent her years with such limited freedom, to the point where guilt had settled within the Emperor’s heart. It was never her choice to have the Brigid Princess hostage to begin with, but freeing her would place the Empire in a precarious position. “I don’t see why not. As long as the play does not fall upon a _ dangerous _ night for her…”

Hubert’s lips quirked into a frown, clearly not incredibly fond of the idea, but he chose not to question his liege. It was about time they showed their hostage a bit more hospitality, lest ill will consume her.

“Fine,” he relented. “Then let us plan to see the opera on opening night. I’ll be certain to investigate thoroughly while everyone else is watching.”

Ferdinand grinned, ecstatic. All the vampire nonsense aside, Petra certainly deserved to spend some free time outside of the confines of her prison room aside from her regularly scheduled training. It would be a night to remember, for whatever reasons it would bring.

* * *

The opening night for their newest production came, and Dorothea was nervous. Though she had never felt stage fright save for her first time singing in front of a crowd of Imperial nobles, she could not shake apprehension from her mind. Fear that she would somehow expose her inhuman nature had overcome her, for there were so many little things that could trigger a commotion. For the last month, she had been training herself not to overuse her newfound strength so that she would not accidentally shatter props, or throw a fellow actor halfway across the stage in a mock battle. 

For the play, she was adorned in a white dress glimmering with the rarest jewels. She was to play an innocent Imperial princess who falls for a prince from the Kingdom, their love never meant to be. Though it was a tragic tale filled with loss and heartbreak, it was one that was well beloved by the nobility of Adrestia, and one that she certainly did not want to mess up. In order to put in her best effort, she had to hide away all the suffering she had endured and focus solely upon her role in the play.

And so, she did.

When it was her turn to come on stage, she sang her heart out. Though the glare of the stage lights did bother her sensitive skin, she did her best to ignore the slight burns that accumulated. They were unnoticeable from a distance and bore no hints as to her true nature. Her scenes all went brilliantly, and she handled each and every one of them with care. For her final act, she recited a long and heartfelt monologue upon center stage, and as she did so, she caught a glance at the upper box row of seats that was reserved for the emperor, finding that it was full. 

Lady Edelgard had come, alongside a throng of Imperial soldiers… including Manuela.

It wavered her confidence slightly, knowing the woman who held authority over all of those in Adrestia was watching alongside her very own _ mentor _, but she put on a brave face and did not allow her shock to show. Usually, Manuela informed her in advance whenever she was to come visit the opera house, so it certainly sparked confusion that she had chosen to make a stealth appearance on opening night.

When Dorothea performed her last scene, applause rang out from the audience. Though she usually felt satisfaction in a job well done, knowing that she had brought happiness to so many, she felt completely empty on the inside. This was just a temporary distraction from all that was happening, and soon, she would be thrust into the world of bloodlust once again. 

How long could this go on? How long could she be the star of the opera for? It was now no longer a question of when her looks and voice would fade, but a question of when people would notice they were not fading.

She bowed alongside the rest of her cast, and was whisked off the stage as the lights went down. Soon, she would be expected to meet her adoring fans. Usually, this is when she would find herself considering potential suitors, but now, she knew that such an action was completely worthless. They were all human, too human, and would fade away and wither while she remained strong and beautiful. She couldn’t be with someone who would vanish in a mere fraction of her lifespan, no matter how wonderful they were. It would only end in heartbreak.

Luckily, it was not the tsunami of fans that awaited her. As soon as she had rid herself of her garments and switched back into her comfortable, familiar red dress, she heard a knock at the door of her changing room.

“Dorothea? The Emperor is requesting an audience with you.”

Oh.

* * *

“A pleasure to see you, Dorothea Arnault,” Edelgard von Hresvelg greeted the opera star, dressed in her usual strikingly red cloak and wearing the golden crown of Adrestia upon her head, sparkling in the candlelit halls. “As you know, I am Edelgard von Hresvelg. I don’t believe we have ever gotten the chance to talk face to face.”

“No, we haven’t,” Dorothea replied, her heart stuttering nervously. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I simply wanted to congratulate you on a breathtaking performance. And…” The Emperor glanced over her shoulder. “...Give a few of my colleagues a chance to talk.”

As soon as Dorothea looked over past Edelgard, her heart sunk momentarily. 

Ferdinand von Aegir.

Ferdinand had always been a huge fan of the opera, and had watched her onstage ever since she had first took front and center. He heralded a deep admiration for Manuela, and never failed to bring up her performances whenever he engaged in conversation with Dorothea. Dorothea, personally, could not stand the man. He was a haughty noble, flaunting his status whenever he could, and a memory of him gazing at her in disgust when she was still but an orphan on the streets lay sour in her mind. No matter how much praise he showered her in, she would forever remember how he had disregarded her the same as any other noble, only drawn to her now that she had reached her full bloom.

“Good evening, Dorothea!” Ferdinand greeted her. “You did an incredible job tonight! I was astounded and blown away!”

“Oh… good,” Dorothea replied, unable to hide her disinterest. Seriously, had Edelgard come just to thrust this annoying man upon her? Perhaps she also couldn’t stand how very pompous he was.

“Actually, I brought someone special with me tonight. I was hoping you could introduce yourself to her,” Ferdinand continued. 

“Have you finally found yourself a girlfriend, Ferdie?” asked Dorothea.

“No! I mean, well, it’s nothing like that! Petra is a guest of our’s, and she’s been wanting to see the opera for a long time.”

As if on cue, a young woman around Dorothea’s age emerged, joining up with Ferdinand. Her fuchsia hair was tied back into a ponytail and held in place by several intricate braids, strung up in a technique that the woman had never seen before, but was dazzling all the same. A magenta mark lay underneath her left eye, seemingly tattooed onto her face. Her foreign attire showcased much of her curvaceous and slightly toned body, with her midriff completely exposed and top only held up by a thin clasp in the back, her outfit ending in a skirt made of foreign furs. Unlike the regularly monotone colors one would see around Fódlan, she was decorated in an array of purples and greens that stood out to the eye. The woman did not go light on the jewelry, for plenty of necklaces hung from her, and her arm was decorated with intricate bracelets. It was clear by one look at her that she was not from Fódlan.

“Ah!” gasped the woman. “You are… Dorothea!”

Intrigue grasped at Dorothea as she gazed upon the new arrival, smiling softly in stark contrast to her disinterest in Ferdinand. “Yes! That’s my name. And you would be…?”

“I am being called Petra Macneary!” she introduced with a small bow. The girl made no attempt at hiding the wide grin upon her face, or the fact that her eyes were glittering with admiration. “I am from an archipelago named Brigid, but I have been living in the Empire for eight years. I am not having mastery of your language, so I hope you will be giving me forgiveness. Though I am able to be reading and writing with fluency, speaking… gives me difficulty.”

Immediately, Dorothea was taken to how adorable the enthusiastic girl was. Her broken speech was actually kind of endearing, and really, she was all around just strikingly beautiful. For a moment, she had completely forgotten about her troubles, thoughts of her vampiric nature whisked away by the earnest beauty that stood before her. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone from Brigid before, and I’ve certainly never met anyone with braids like that before. They’re very beautiful.”

Petra’s face was alight with a small blush. “They are braids of Brigid.”

“Perhaps you could show me how you do your hair sometime?” Dorothea suggested, genuine curiosity lighting her desire to learn more about the girl. “If you want to come see me again, of course. We have performances twice a day every day!”

“I would be liking that greatly!” came Petra’s immediate response, joy overflowing. “I have much admiration for you! Your performance was stunning, I was not able to be taking my eyes off of you! You were like… a mythical spirit.” Her eyes glittered as she thought back to the performance not even minutes ago, clearly taken in by the glamor of it all. “And your voice…! I was loving every moment of it.”

Seeing someone so very genuine about their feelings was heartwarming to Dorothea, who had spent far too much of her life guessing about what lay behind people’s masks. Whenever she was on a date, she would spend far too long deciphering whether the man across from her was being kind to her for the sake of doing so, or whether or not it was just because he wished to bed her. “A mythical spirit? My my, that’s a high honor. Thank you, Petra,” thanked Dorothea, her gratitude just as genuine as the other girl’s enthusiasm. “I’d be glad to put on another performance for you. Maybe I’ll give you a private show if you come visit me on your own, hm?” she suggested with a wink, unable to help herself from playing a bit with the adorable girl.

“You would be doing that for me?” gasped the Brigid princess. “I am not sure if I am able to be visiting anytime soon, but I have gratitude for your offer. I will be remembering it!”

Ferdinand seemed pleased with how satisfied Petra was. “I’ll talk to Hubert and work something out if you liked it that much!”

Edelgard nodded, deciding that the two in her company had said their peace. “Very well then. We’ll be heading off soon, but Manuela wanted to speak to you about a different matter,” she informed Dorothea. “I believe she said she’d be waiting for you in the back alley.”

Ah yes, Manuela. Dorothea was still curious to know the reasons behind her sudden visit, but brushed it aside for now. Instead, she turned towards Petra, intentionally disregarding Ferdinand, and gave her best charming smile. “I look forward to seeing you again, Petra. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

Petra mirrored Dorothea’s smile with one of her own: radiant, and oh so beautiful. “The pleasure was being mine! I will also be looking forward to seeing you again.”

With that, the trio of Imperial soldiers left, leaving Dorothea to hurry towards the back alley. As she pried the door open, a sinking feeling overcame her as the memory of what had happened to her back there hit her once again like a jolt of lightning. She was so lost in the moment, being with Petra, that she had forgotten _ all _ about the vampiric horrors she had been forced into. The smile fading off of her face like ice melting in the summer’s heat, Dorothea slipped into the alleyway.

Indeed, Manuela was waiting for her, as gorgeous as ever with a pleased smile. “Dorothea!” she greeted, flinging her arms around the other woman’s back and pulling her into a friendly hug. “How good to see you! You’ve certainly made a name for yourself. I always tell you how proud I am of you, and it’s always so true. Your performance tonight was simply dazzling!”

A slight giggle escaped Dorothea’s throat despite her anxiety. “Thank you, Manuela. It really means a lot to me to hear that coming from you.”

Manuela had always been Dorothea’s idol, and the closest thing she had to family. She had taken her in when no one else would, gave her shelter, gave her food, and above all, gave her a future. Despite the ill rumors that would spread about Manuela regarding her drinking habits and uncleanliness, Dorothea never let those darken her opinion of her idol, her shining star. 

It made her fear the disappointed look Manuela would give her when she realized Dorothea had become a murderous monster.

When Manuela pulled herself from the hug, she let out a sorrowful sigh. “How I wish I were here solely to watch you perform,” she lamented. “I’m sure you’ve already heard enough about all the murders around here.”

Of course that’s what this was all about. Dorothea’s anxiety spiked as she forced a solemn expression upon her face. She was always a good actress, so deceiving Manuela with her reactions should prove easy enough, but really, did she _ want _ to trick her anymore? “Of course,” she answered seriously. 

“Well, I’m supposed to be asking you if you know anything, but…” Manuela shook her head. “It’s all rather strange, isn’t it? There are rumors that the criminal might even be something that’s not human.”

Dorothea’s stomach felt like it was twisting into knots. Darkness clouded her eyes as she met Manuela’s gaze, her mind begging for freedom from this horrible nightmare. How she wished to confess it all in this moment, to give her head over for execution, but the faintest spark of hope still alight within her prevented her from spilling the truth. She couldn’t bare tell the first person who had ever showed her any genuine kindness what a monster she had become. To lose Manuela’s respect would be to lose her guidance. “I really don’t know anything, Manuela,” she answered. “I’ve been busy with the Opera and rehearsal and all that, I haven’t had any time to look into it all. 

“That’s what I thought,” sighed Manuela. “I hope you still have that dagger of yours on hand. I couldn’t bare the thought of losing you, Dorothea.”

How Dorothea wished those words would bring her joy, but they only brought pain. “Of course, Manuela. And if that murder _ does _ show his face around me, well then, I’ll simply break his arms! Snap! Just like you taught me,” she tried to joke, managing to put on a convincing act of humor. “I’m hardly ready to lose my life to someone looking for trouble. I haven’t even found my husband yet!”

“Amen to that,” muttered an all too empathetic Manuela. “Speaking of which, I had thought that the Imperial Army would have plenty of decent men, but none of the knights have been anything but rude! I took one to my room one night and he crumpled his nose and left! Can you believe it? The audacity…!”

Dorothea allowed Manuela to continue ranting onwards, half listening, half thinking about what the future held for her. The thoughts of having a loving spouse had dwindled, becoming nothing. How was she even to think about having someone to love when she couldn’t even love what she had become?

Maybe death was a preferable option.

* * *

With the opera ongoing, Dorothea had enough distraction to temporarily sate her from her lust for blood. She danced and sang upon the stage every night, garnering the attention of many smitten fans who cheered and thrust gifts in her arms, begging for her hand in marriage. In those moments, it was as though nothing about her had changed. No one had noticed the blemishes upon her skin that would grow in the harsh light, nor the sharp fangs that jutted out from her top row of teeth. She had gotten adept at hiding them under her upper lip whenever she had to bellow out a song, and thus, had escaped all suspicion. Her need to prey on the innocent dwindled, and for a few days, she had thought herself free of her vicious cycle… free enough to take on another date. Perhaps, she thought, she would meet someone who would be willing to share her eternal curse. 

Thus, she had accepted a date with a wealthy young nobleman. All had gone well. He had taken her out to dinner, where she had choked down the tasteless meal without any suspicion. Her body had wished to fight back over being forced to consume a meal that bore no nutritional value, but years of acting upon the stage had kept her from making a scene. He was a rather nice fellow, though if he did so out of kindness or ulterior motives was unknown to Dorothea. Regardless, he had been interesting enough to consider spending another date with.

But it hadn’t ended well.

Dorothea didn’t remember too much, just that the two of them had been walking side by side down the streets of the darkened Enbarr, moon shimmering above. Perhaps something had happened, like him tripping and scraping his knee, but whatever it was, it had triggered a deep hunger inside of Dorothea’s throat, one that she had been suppressing for days. What followed was a haze of memories consisting of scuffling, bodies slamming upon the stone floor, and the exquisite taste of blood like the finest of wines, so delightfully flavorful and packed with nutrients. The untamed vampire could not help herself, and when she came to, she was standing over his pale corpse, blood rolling down her chin. 

She had shoved his body in a darkened alley and ran off.

Now, her unquenchable desire for blood had taken a turn. No longer did the dilute blood of simple street men sate her thirst, but only sparked a craving for proper, rich blood of noblemen so fine and bursting with sweetness. She began to lure unsuspecting noblemen to alleyways with promises of passionate romance, only to bury her fangs into their neck and drink them until they perished. All the while, she would wish from the bottom of her heart that someone would find her, stop her from claiming the life of another innocent man, and drive a stake through her. 

* * *

Hubert lingered behind his liege as she sipped a cup of tea, seated upon a balcony overlooking the sunset gracing the now orange skies. The vampire needed not lurk within a shade-laden corner, for he had long ago trained himself to become accustomed to the rays of the cruel sun, as many powerful vampires had done. Across from her sat Manuela Casagranda, a look of apprehension painted upon her usually beautiful face. 

“More noblemen, I presume?” Edelgard asked, setting the cup of tea down with a small ching. 

“Indeed,” Hubert answered. “All of them deceased, found with bite marks upon their necks, drained of all their blood. Clearly the work of an untamed vampire.”

Edelgard sighed. “Now that our vampire has chosen to sink their fangs into the upper class, I’m sure they’ve caused quite a stir amongst nobility. How predictable,” she commented, used to the selfish ways of nobility. Though a few tales of dead commoners would scare them so, they would care not until one of their own status was found deceased. “It’s imperative that we act quickly before Enbarr falls into disarray.”

Manuela shifted uncomfortably upon her plush seat, as though it had suddenly become made of stone. Matters of what had become of the Mittelfrank Opera Company had been on her mind for quite some time, and now that the options for a culprit were becoming thin, she had been plagued with worry.

This was an action that Hubert did not fail to notice. “How strange it is, Manuela. Though there have been rumors of a murderer around Mittelfrank for quite some time, none have taken them to heart. Somehow, young noblemen are still being lured, free of their fear, to the fangs of a killer. How is that possible?” he questioned.

“I… I’m not sure,” Manuela answered, the tea in front of her becoming cold.

“Could it perhaps be that our culprit is someone… desirable?” Hubert speculated, a malicious grin forming. “Someone who these foolish men crave so much they are willing to _ die _ for? It only makes sense if our stray vampire is a beautiful young woman, so adept at luring clueless men to her side. Does that description bring anyone to mind, Manuela?”

Manuela did not reply and simply gazed at her lap, twiddling her thumbs together. 

“If you think it’s her, Hubert, why not see for yourself?” Edelgard suggested. “I hardly think it would be difficult to identify her if you’re so certain.”

“I’d like a little assistance in that matter. I can think of an easy way to trap our culprit if _ someone _ is involved…”

Unable to take having two sets of eyes peering at her, Manuela finally spoke up. “Don’t hurt her, Hubert.”

“I can promise nothing, but perhaps I’d be more willing to… well, relent, if you were to assist. Don’t you think…?”

Knowing there was no way out of this one, Manuela had no choice but to agree. Perhaps, if she hoped enough, it would all turn out to be a lie. 

“Very well then. I have an idea…” Hubert began.

* * *

Another day meant another afternoon spent preparing for a late night performance. Though Dorothea had learned to dread the sun’s rays, she had grown accustomed to holing herself up indoors while the sun still shone down upon Enbarr. Sometimes, she would deeply miss being allowed to tread through broad daylight, simply soaking herself in the rays and admiring the beauty of a warm summer’s day, but she could not allow herself to grow too depressed, lest it begin to affect her stage performance. These days, it seemed as though her very shaky future as a songstress was all that she had left to cling to. As she fiddled with her hair in the dressing room mirror, Dorothea tried not to think about the faint taste of blood that still lingered in her throat, sweet and tempting. Last night, she had made a meal of an unfortunate, naive nobleman who had taken less than a few minutes to coax into the darkness of an alleyway, where no one was around to hear him scream.

A jiggle upon the doorknob forced her from the depths of her morbid memories. When the door flung open, Dorothea’s eyes grew wide as she caught the reflection of Manuela Casagranda in the mirror, carrying with her a fancy yet inexpensive handbag that looked filled to the brim.

“Dorothea!” she greeted cheerily. “How good to see you.”

“Manuela?” Dorothea expressed shock in her tone of voice, turning to look at the woman. “What a delightful surprise to see you! What brings you here?”

“Oh, not much darling. I have a date tonight with a splendid knight here at the opera house, and I was simply hoping I could find the time to chat with you while I await our passionate night.” Manuela raised the green, plush handbag with a small smile. “I was thinking we could go somewhere nice, just the two of us, and share a cup of tea. The weather is lovely.”

Dorothea pursed her lips together, frustration bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Spending time with Manuela to ease her of her fears for just a moment sounded lovely, but she certainly could not do so when the sun’s rays threatened to scorch her skin. “Well, all that does sound lovely, but I can’t really be leaving the opera house right now.”

Manuela looked directly at the other woman. “Are you sure? It really is lovely outside. Nothing can compare with a summer’s afternoon, don’t you think?”

“Ah, really, I shouldn’t… but I appreciate the offer.”

The other opera singer’s expression filled with disappointment at Dorothea’s response, and another emotion that Dorothea couldn’t quite put her finger on. “Well then. How about if we just share some tea inside? I brought you your favorite.”

Tea… it had been far too long since she had been able to enjoy tea. After her transformation, she had attempted to indulge herself in a fine brew, but found that it too bore an unpleasant taste. Her body was intent on rejecting anything that was not blood, but she couldn't tell Manuela. “That sounds lovely, Manuela,” she replied wistfully, a hint of sorrow in her voice. “Why don’t we find some place less stuffy than here?”

Dorothea invited Manuela back towards the recreation room, which was thankfully empty given how busy the rest of the crew was in preparing for the performance. They sat across from each other at a small, round table donned with a white tablecloth and a vase of roses. The vampire sat and waited as her mentor carefully brewed two cups of tea, eyes scanning the assortment of cookies and treats that Manuela had brought for her. If it had been months ago, she would have been head over heels excited for the opportunity to indulge herself in such rare confections, but now, she only dreaded having to fake enjoyment when she forced her uncooperative body to swallow down the meal. 

A strong aroma wafted through the room, one which made Dorothea’s stomach feel rather sour. Manuela placed a cup of tea in front of the younger woman before settling down into the seat opposite her, blowing lightly on her own cup. 

“The sweet-apple blend they have at the castle is excellent. When I had it for the first time, I knew I had to share it with you. That was always your favorite, yes?” Manuela began.

Dorothea looked uncomfortably at the brew of sweet apple tea, sitting there as though taunting her. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Manuela. That’s very kind of you.”

The young vampire forced the cup to her lips, expression unwavering as a foul taste like bubbling soap flooded her mouth. She swallowed the concoction with a sweet smile, her talent as an actress coming in handy. All the while, Manuela stared at her, as though she was attempting to gauge her reaction.

“What do you think?” the older woman asked.

“It’s lovely. They really do make everything better for nobles, huh?” she joked lightly. “They must really spoil you in the army.”

For a moment, the older songstress did not reply, simply looking at Dorothea with a shaky smile. “Yes, they do… well...” she remarked. She set her handbag down next to her, fidgeting slightly in her seat. “If only the knights there did. Oh, you should see how handsome some of those men are. Gallant, striking, like out of a novel! A pity they just aren’t interested in a catch like me,” she huffed.

“Didn’t you just say you were going on a date later tonight?” Dorothea questioned, eyebrows raised.

Manuela looked momentarily shaken, as though Dorothea had burnt a hole in her lie. “Erm, yes, well… who knows with him, really,” she answered quickly. “What about you, Dorothea? Been spending any time with fans of yours?”

_ Yes, I’ve been luring them into alleyways and murdering them for their blood. _“Not really. I haven’t had much interest in all that these days,” she admitted, fiddling with a brown strand of hair that hung loosely over her forehead. “Maybe some people aren’t meant to have happy endings.”

“Don’t say that, dear,” Manuela insisted with a sorrowful look. “You’re a wonderful young lady. Surely there must be someone out there.”

“If only,” Dorothea replied dryly, thinking of how her future had been so cruelly stolen from her. There had been something tragically beautiful about the idea of growing old by the side of someone she loved, dying in each others arms and being buried for all of eternity next to each other. While some may have considered an opera that ended as such to be a tragedy, Dorothea had always thought them the peak of romance. It was her fantasy to be eternally bound to someone, as though destiny itself had chosen them to be together. The idea of soulmates had always been debated by authors, but she herself had chosen to believe in it, if only to carry her through the nights after a horrible date when all seemed helpless. Now, she was left wondering if her soulmate was destined to die slowly, cruelly, withering away in her forever young arms. She brought the cup of tea to her lips, thinking not much of the horrid flavor that flooded her. It was strange how used to this human disguise she had become. “I’m alright with it, now. I used to fear the idea of dying alone, but… well, maybe it’s just destiny.” Depression shone within her deep emerald eyes, and in that moment, she was more vulnerable than ever. 

“Dorothea…” breathed Manuela. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?”

Dorothea shook her head. “I dunno. I’ve just… been thinking, that’s all,” she answered back. Her gaze locked with the other woman’s, and deep within was a silent plea for help, a request for Manuela to somehow put an end to her suffering. She was too feeble, too scared to put a voice to her request. 

Manuela leaned forward across the table, her eyes suddenly harboring intense melancholy. “Who was it?” she whispered. “Who did this to you, Dorothea?”

“No one, I was just… huh?” Dorothea felt the atmosphere grow ominous and heavy, as though prying eyes were staring at her back. A breath hitched in her throat, feeling as though she was trapped. Something was looming behind her, something that was not there before, something tall and shady and dark… no, _ someone _.

“That’s not sweet apple tea, Dorothea,” sighed Manuela. “I’m…. so sorry.”

Realization dawned over her like the sun’s harsh rays. Before she could make any other movements, her chair was jerked backwards. An arm grabbed its way around her stomach and squeezed her like a python constricting its prey while a sharpened knife jutted underneath her jaw. Now locked in a firm embrace, Dorothea made no attempts to struggle against the intruder. A sigh escaped her lips and she closed her eyes, wondering to herself if this was her penance. She thanked the Goddess for finally answering her pleas and sending someone to dispose of the monster that she had become underneath her breath, and then spoke aloud: “Please. Make it quick.”

A sinister, deep laugh resounded behind her. “Make it quick, you ask?” came a voice like a snake’s. “I wonder… did you make it quick for your victims, or did you slowly drain them of their life force while they struggled against you, screaming for you to stop? I certainly don’t think you made anything quick.” The knife dug itself against her throat, the blade drawing crimson blood that dribbled onto her red opera dress. “Tell me, did you enjoy it? Did you relish in the sounds of your victims suffering as you sucked them dry?”

“Hubert!” Manuela interjected, looking enraged by the man’s words. “That’s enough!”

The man behind her, Hubert apparently, just chuckled. “I was merely playing with her, Manuela. Let’s see now…” As the dagger dropped from her throat, a glove finger forced its way inside of her mouth, pulling up her upper lips and baring her fangs to the world. Shame washed over Dorothea, knowing that the woman that had given her everything was now watching the evidence of her wrongdoings come clean. The gloved finger ran its way down the length of her right fang, stopping only at the very tip. “It seems we’ve got our culprit beyond a shadow of a doubt. Now then. I’m certain Lady Edelgard would like to hear of this.”

Dorothea hadn’t anymore time to react. In the next instant, she was suddenly met by an immense force, knocking her to the ground and turning her world pitch black.

* * *

When next she woke, Dorothea found herself surrounded by darkness, steel chains that burned into her skin binding her wrists above her head and forcing the exposed back of her dress to stone as cold as a winter’s night. Only a sole candle held to to a dreary wall lit the surroundings, and if she had not been a vampire, it would only give her just a faint hint as to her location. On almost all sides, she was surrounded by stone walls, save for steel bars that sealed off any method of escape in front of her. Struggle she did in her binds, but found that the magically-enchanted chains offered no opportunity for her to break free, not even utilizing her vampiric strength. The only sound that echoed within the chambers was the squeaking and scuttling of rats, matted and dirty, scampering in search of leftovers to make a meal of.

So, this was it, she thought to herself. Dorothea closed her eyes and hummed a familiar tune in an attempt to drown out the awful squeaking, the same tune that had once freed her from the life of a street urchin. Years ago, she had sung that song within a damp alleyway, dirty, mangled, so thin that her ribs showed through her skin, and covered in bruises from noblemen who had kicked her out of their sight. Then, that song had been her guiding hope, her solace, her one key to escaping a near certain death from starvation. A single tear shed from her eye, rolling down onto the cruel, dirty floor beneath. 

It had been a good life. She had gone from being the lowest of the low to a star in the opera, beloved by all, with nobles from all over Fódlan coming to see her. For the moments that she was singing upon the opera stage, she had been the most desired woman in all of Fódlan. Though her stardom was plagued by lecherous men who tried to do awful things to her, she still enjoyed the times where she was allowed to sing to her heart’s content, or the rare opportunities when her dates weren’t totally disasters. Sure, she hadn’t ever gotten to fall in love, had all her dreams shattered, spent half the time trying to defend herself from those who wished to do horrible things to her, but… it had been a good life. 

Not really.

When the door clattered open with a shrill shriek, Dorothea opened her eyes. There stood a prison guard, alongside Manuela, whose eyes reflected pity upon seeing her helpless student, bound and ready for execution.

“Hello, Manuela,” Dorothea greeted solemnly. 

“Dorothea, dear…” she began, but was quickly interrupted.

“Did you tell them to make it quick? For my sake,” Dorothea inquired. “I’d rather not go out suffering. That’s no way for an opera star to die, I should think…”

Manuela shook her head. “They’re not going to execute you, dear,” she informed the younger opera star, footsteps echoing upon stone walls as she approached her former student.

“That’s a shame,” half laughed Dorothea, though her voice was weak. “I was hoping they would, you know. I don’t want to live like this… _ as _this. I’m assuming there’s no way to turn me back.”

“I’m sorry,” replied Manuela, which was all the response Dorothea needed to know any dreams of being a human once more were impossible. “But… I can’t let you die. You’re still my star student.” She hesitated before she spoke once more. “I suppose I never told you, but in a way, you were my savior, too. In the opera, I had all the stardom and all the men fawning over me, but I was never happy. No man would ever stick with me long when they realized I was more than just a pretty face upon the stage. I had nothing, really. But then… when I found you, Dorothea, I had a purpose again. A reason to be in the opera. So that I could teach you, watch you find your proper place in the world. I had already made plans to leave the company, but I knew I couldn’t until I watched you take my place.”

“Manuela…” breathed Dorothea. Beyond all that husband chasing and drinking was a genuine woman with a kind heart, and she had always known that. A pity no man could see her for that. “...I… just don’t know what I’m going to do now. I wanted to find a man to marry me, to take care of me when I grew old, but now… I’m not going to grow old. I have no plans for myself anymore.”

“Well, about that…” began the older songstress. “Lady Edelgard has ordered that you become a prisoner of the Empire, and a member of the Imperial Army. I was told to come here to tell you that they’re setting up a room for you right now… well, a prison cell. Nicer than this, though. They’ll be done momentarily.”

A member of the Imperial Army, huh? Dorothea had never really considered her life taking that much of a turn, as she had never seen herself as a soldier. Perhaps, now that she had tainted her hands and mouth red with blood, it was only appropriate for her to become one. Her transformation had granted her newfound strength and abilities, the extent of which she did not know. 

“Well, as long as they can teach me how to stop killing people,” sighed Dorothea. “I… I never wanted that, Manuela, I… It was all an accident. I couldn’t…”

“It’s all right, dear, I understand,” Manuela hushed her. “The man I was with, Hubert, is also a vampire in service of the Imperial Army. I’m sure he'll teach you how to control yourself.”

That was a bit of a relief, even though the thought of spending more time with the sinister man she hadn’t even gotten a good look at sent shivers down her spine. He had certainly wasted no time in taunting her, and everything about him just seemed… well, creepy. It only made sense that he was a vampire, given how he had magically appeared behind her without giving any hint as to his presence. Perhaps that too was a power she would learn.

If she could stop murdering, then perhaps she was all right with living.

It was not long before another prison guard appeared, telling the two of them that preparations had been completed. Manuela wished her luck before hurrying away so that the men could take care of her, and Dorothea found herself missing her mentor’s comforting presence immediately. The guard inserted a key within the chains that bound her, freeing her from the wall, but not the chains themselves. Whatever magic they were enchanted with, they were doing a good job at searing the flesh around her wrists. 

Dorothea was escorted through darkened halls, to a staircase that led upwards. She was led to the floor above, but not the top, and forced through a wooden door. There, she was greeted by sealed doors in a much, much more pleasant room, decorated with a red rug that bore the double-headed eagle in golden, a symbol of Adrestia. One of the guards pushed her towards the second sealed door on the right, which they then unlocked. 

With a shove, she was pushed within the confines of the room. A hand undid the chains from her wrists, allowing them to fall to the ground with a loud thunk. Without a second thought nor a moment to converse with the guards, the door slammed shut behind her, locked tight. 

Not much hospitality for prisoners, Dorothea thought to herself dryly. She shook her injured wrists, thankful they were now freed, though noticing that they had now bore deep, red marks that were quite sore. Anti-vampire magic, she assumed.

Dorothea looked upon the room that was sure to become her entire world. It was rather well decorated, for a prison, with a clean red rug and plenty of room to move about. On the left side was a large bed adorned in sheets made from furs, which had been carelessly tossed about as though no one had given any thought to making them look presentable. In the middle of the was a large coffee table and two sofas that looked rather comfortable, and on the right, a dark black coffin befitted with a red, plush interior. As far as entertainment went, there was a bookshelf that looked to be absolutely full with all sorts of reading to be done, but not much else. A sole second door was embedded upon the yellow painted walls, which Dorothea assumed led to a bathroom that hopefully had a place for her to wash herself. At least she had that.

With a melancholic sigh, she sunk to the floor. So, this was to be her life. A prisoner in the hands of the Adrestian Empire. Just a handful of months back, she could have never seen this twist coming. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to calm her still frantically beating heart. She wondered what they were doing at the Mittelfrank Opera Company now that they had lost their star. Had the others been informed of her guilt in the recent murders, or were they left to assume that she had simply disappeared? She’d certainly rather the others think that one of her kidnappers had finally succeeded than have them know that she had transformed into a monster.

So, what now?

The answer to her plight came in the form of a door creaking open. Her eyes darted open with start, suddenly realizing she was not so alone in this prison cell. 

“...Hello…?” she called out. 

“Dorothea…? Is that… being you…?”

That voice… she had certainly heard it before…!

From the other room came Petra, adorned in the very same outfit she had worn the night of the opera. Elation quickly washed over her features, and the Brigid girl hurried to Dorothea’s side, practically bouncing on the heels of her feet. “I was being told that I was going to be having a cellmate, but I was not knowing it was you!” she gasped. “I am feeling great joy! But… why are you here?”

Dorothea’s mind attempted to comprehend the twist situation in front of her. No one had told her that she was going to be sharing her room, especially given her vampiric nature! “Petra…” she gasped out.

It seemed things were going to be more interesting than she first thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not abandoning Love and the Ocean's Breeze, not at all. But since it's Spooky month, I want to take advance of the season of monster kissing to force you all into Doropetra monster girl AUs. I'll be writing some more of Love and the Ocean's Breeze, but this is a slight detour.
> 
> I hope to god this ends up being a two parter and NOT a three parter like On Broken Wings.
> 
> If you liked this, please leave a comment and a kudo. I really appreciate it! Thanks.
> 
> Next chapter: In which Dorothea discovers that soulmates are real, after all.


	2. Part Two: Shared Agony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you know how last time, I said this chapter would be pure fluff
> 
> Well, things changed and it turns out, I fucking lied! Fluff is next chapter. Oh yeah, and this is going to be more than two chapters, because lul. I can't keep things short and simple, as it turns out. 
> 
> This chapter definitely has more Doropetra tho.

A multitudinous number of questions filled Dorothea’s mind as she peered upwards from her not so comfortable position on the floor, looking straight into the eager brown eyes of her new roommate—well, cellmate. Though Petra appeared more than elated at the new arrival, curiosity sparkled within the depth of her eyes. When they had last met a handful of weeks ago, Dorothea had been a star upon the opera stage, and Petra an awe-struck fan within the sea of the audience. Nothing then suggested to the other that they would end up in prison. 

“Petra…” Dorothea spoke out once more, sorrow twinging upon her downward curved lips. Where was she even to begin? Now that she had been captured and imprisoned, there was little to no point in hiding her vampiric nature, especially from the woman she was to share a cell with. “Actually, I… the reason I’m here is because… well… I killed people.”

For some odd reason, Petra did not look the least bit perturbed by this confession. She merely stared at her cellmate before nodding her head. “I have understanding,” came her reply. “Hubert was telling me that there was a vampire in Enbarr. You are that vampire, yes?”

How quickly the other girl caught on, Dorothea thought to herself. That simple action spoke volumes to how sharp the Brigid girl was. “I… I couldn’t control myself, Petra. I didn’t want to kill them, I…” she continued onwards, feeling the need to attempt to justify her crimes, but found that her words faded, unable to even convince herself. A lump sat firmly in the center of her throat, causing discomfort to flare up within the vampire. “...I don’t know why they put me in here with you. I don’t know how this whole vampire business works. I was only turned about a moon and a half ago… and I’d never forgive myself, ever, if I were to hurt you...”

Petra cocked her head to the side, looking only a bit puzzled by Dorothea’s plight. “You will not be causing me harm,” she answered back confidently. “Hubert will be teaching you how to control your powers, yes? And I am able to be fighting back if you are losing control. Though it is unfortunate that I cannot be doing much as a prisoner of the Empire, they are still feeding me every day. They will be doing the same to you.”

That’s right. Dorothea’s head jerked upwards once more as she suddenly realized the very obvious fact that Petra too must have some reason for being locked away in this heavily reinforced room, door bound with magically enhanced steel akin to the chains now lying in a heap upon the floor. At first glance, nothing seemed off to her. Clearly, she wasn’t terribly dangerous as Ferdinand and Edelgard  _ had _ invited her out to go to the opera with them, something they’d hardly do if she were a vicious murderer. “...What about you, Petra?” Dorothea had to ask. It was the elephant in the room, one that would eventually have to be spoken of anyway. “You certainly don’t look like a criminal.”

Petra shook her head. “I am not a criminal, however, I am being a hostage of the Empire,” she began to explain. “If you are having knowings of the Brigid-Dagda war, then you are knowing that Brigid was attacking the Empire and lost. Because we were losing the war, Brigid became a vassal of the Empire, and I was sent over from Brigid as a hostage… to make sure that they would not be rebelling anymore. My grandfather, the king, had no choice but to be giving me up. I have been living in this room ever since.” 

The Brigid-Dagda war… Dorothea thought back and nodded, recalling when Brigid soldiers had first made landing upon Empire territory. That had been eight years ago, a horribly long time for a young woman to be locked in a comfortable yet far too small cell. Dorothea’s heart ached for Petra. Had she been alone in here this entire time? Even if she had been allowed out upon occasion, such as when she had visited the opera, she still couldn’t imagine how terribly lonely it must have felt. Looking deep into the other woman’s eyes, she could see a twinge of that loneliness reflected within, her lips curved into a frown as she spoke of the circumstances that had led her to her imprisonment. 

“I’m sorry,” Dorothea whispered. “That must have been hard for you.”

“Yes. When I first arrived here, I was not knowing a single word of your language. Learning has given me great difficulty, but I have been studying with hardness. Even though I have been alone in this room, I was able to be reading books and joining the rest of the Imperial Army for training.” Petra could not hide the toll the years spent confined had taken upon her, as voice became more and more laden with sorrow. However, her emotions took a sharp turn as her eyes suddenly grew wide, sparkling with a newfound happiness. “But… I am having you now, and that is giving me great joy…!”

With such a response, Dorothea couldn’t help but allow a small laugh to bubble from her throat. Though her heart felt heavy with everything that had happened in the very eventful last moon, the genuine joy that spread upon Petra’s face was enough to alleviate her worries, if only for a fleeting moment. “Getting to share my room with a princess, and a beautiful one at that… my my, I must be a lucky woman,” she teased lightheartedly, hoping her usual flirtations would help keep her anxieties at bay for longer. “Really, you’re a genuine princess, all the way from Brigid? I hadn’t known you were royalty when we met, but looking at you now, it seems all too obvious.”

A light blush crept its way upon Petra’s cheeks, tinting it with pink. “Please, do not be calling me princess! You are making me blush,” she protested. “When I am here in the Empire, I am no princess. You do not have to be treating me as such.”

How adorable, Dorothea thought to herself, watching how Petra’s cheeks flared, how her eyes were beginning to shine, how her tail was swishing back and forth…

Wait.

Dorothea’s eyes shot downwards towards Petra’s backside, where a fluffy tail matching the color of her hair poked out, wagging from side to side with genuine excitement. Upon noticing that Dorothea had spotted it, Petra’s blush changed from a light pink to a rosy red.

“You must have my apologies!” Petra gasped out at once, though her rapid tail did not falter. “Whenever I am getting excited or feeling joy, it is appearing whether or not I want it to be. Controlling it gives me difficulty. When I was going to the opera, I was having to hide my tail in my skirt… It was giving me great relief that you were not noticing it.”

Unable to take her eyes off of the long wolf tail, Dorothea looked at it in awe. It was wagging back and forth like an excited puppy and showed no signs of ceasing, even now. There had been a handful of operas about creatures called werewolves: humans who would transform into beasts underneath the light of the full moon. If vampires were indeed real, it made sense that werewolves too were real, and she could not deny the evidence now that it was right in front of her. “You’re a werewolf,” she stated, and suddenly it made quite a bit of sense why the Imperial Army had chosen to lock them both in this reinforced room. 

“I am,” Petra confirmed. “I was not always being a werewolf… It was only after I had been in Fódlan for a few years that I turned.” Seeing that Dorothea was looking at her with curious eyes, the princess continued. “We were training in the woods, late at night. There had been rumors of a beast, and Hubert was wanting me to investigate it with him. But… I made a mistake. I was bitten.” She tapped her neck, showing the faint outline of teeth marks still visible upon her skin, though so light that one would hardly notice if they hadn’t been looking for it. “Ever since then, they have been reinforcing this room with magic so I cannot be escaping or hurting anyone.” As she spoke, the waving of her tail stalled to a halt, and it dropped downwards. “Even though years have passed, I am not having control over my powers. They are worried that I could be hurting someone, especially when the moon is being full, so they are keeping me here. Forever.” 

Dorothea’s eyes gleamed with empathy as she listened to Petra’s tale, feeling as though it was not so different from her own, despite the differences in species. She too was a beast capable of hurting others against her own will, forced within a cage so that others could be spared of her potential violence. Though they had barely met, Dorothea already felt a strong connection between herself and the other woman, and she found herself thanking whoever had made the decision to allow the two to room together. “I know how that feels,” she responded. “I didn’t ask for this either, of course. It was all a mistake… everything I went through, it was…” She took a deep breath to compose herself, not wishing to spill all her hidden emotions out on the poor other woman. “...Well, at least I don’t have to do it alone anymore, right? I’ve got you.” 

Petra nodded enthusiastically, perking up. “Yes!” she replied. “I am having you now, so I will not be allowing you to feel loneliness. Let us be making the best of our situations. Are you in agreement?”

“Yes, I agree.” Dorothea allowed a small smile to take the place of her usual frown, and noticed how Petra’s tail reacted by perking up once more and swishing with vigor. The werewolf mirrored Dorothea’s smile, and in the back of her mind, the vampire thought to herself about how utterly adorable her roommate was.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

* * *

As the first few days of her imprisonment began, Dorothea found herself making fast friends with her cellmate. Most of her time was spent locked within the room with little to amuse herself with aside from the multitude of books lining the shelves and the presence of the other woman, who was eager to talk to her at any opportunity. It became clear to Dorothea that the girl hadn’t been allowed to indulge herself in casual conversation for the most part, for she was always very excited to spill her thoughts to Dorothea. 

Petra had a lot to talk about. She talked to Dorothea about her homeland, Brigid, and all the beauty that inhabited it. She talked about the plants, the animals, and how much she missed the vast blue sea that surrounded the archipelago. She talked about their traditions, how they braid their hair, how they dressed, how they spent their days, and all the while, Dorothea was eager to listen. She returned Petra’s knowledge with stories of her own, about the various operas she had starred in and others that she had read. They talked about memories both cherished and despised, feeling free to share their thoughts with the other.

Dorothea told Petra about how she had been a starving orphan upon the streets of Enbarr, and Petra told Dorothea all about the traumatic days of being whisked away to the Empire, not knowing a single word of the native language. They bonded over their shared situations, and Dorothea found that vampires and werewolves had plenty of similarities. Though Petra could digest a variety of food, meat was the only thing that could sustain her, and going without it would surely kill her. Alongside the bottles of animal blood that were delivered to their room every night, a slab of raw meat would be neatly placed upon a silver platter for Petra, and she would devour it much like one would expect a wolf to. A starved werewolf would react violently to the scent of meat and become deadly, much like how a thirsty vampire would go into a frenzy and drink someone dry if they were unable to feed for a few days. 

Most of all, however, they were both immortal.

Petra too would not age, forced into an eternal life upon the throne. Brigid would be granted with a queen who never grew old, and she would be forever bound to her duties. Though she insisted she was prepared for the idea of ruling a country for all of eternity, Dorothea couldn’t help but wonder if that was how she truly felt. Surely, one day, she would grow tired of hundreds of years upon a throne, never aging as those around her withered and died. All the while, Dorothea’s fears of the future never ceased. Would she ever be free of this room, or would she forever be a soldier of the Empire?

And most of all, would she ever find someone to spend her life with?

Only time would tell, it would seem.

* * *

There was plenty about being a vampire that took getting used to, Dorothea found, even within the confines of a cell that possessed no windows nor access to the outside world. One of those things was the so-called “bed” that she had been granted.

The vampiress shifted uncomfortably within the walls of her coffin, lined with plush red fabric akin to one of the fancy couches that appeared common in the Imperial castle. While it scarcely granted her comfort beyond the ground, she had only a small pillow to rest her head upon and little to no room to move. It was as though she was supposed to lie as stiff as a corpse whenever she wished to sleep, and although vampires were frequently seen as undead beings, she was very much alive and with a beating heart to boot, thank you very much. Her complaints had fallen on deaf ears, as Hubert had insisted that it was vital for her training for reasons that seemed trivial to Dorothea. What was the point if she couldn’t even sleep?

Groggy and annoyed, Dorothea tossed to her other side once more and stared at the red walls with eyes that so desperately wished they could close. Her back ached and she felt so very claustrophobic. It was looking to be another sleepless night.

A knock upon the door of her coffin jolted her to attention. She placed both palms to the door and pushed it open gently, so as not to accidentally collide into her roommate. As expected, Petra was looking down at her, a look of concern plastered upon her face. 

“Dorothea… you are having troubles sleeping again,” Petra observed. “Your coffin is making a lot of noise.”

Ah, was Petra able to hear her when she tossed and turned so? She sat up in her coffin and shifted a bit, finding that it did indeed rattle. “I had no idea it was so noisy! I hope I haven’t been keeping you up,” sighed the vampire. 

Petra shook her head. “I am just having concerns for you. I have been noticing that you have not been sleeping at all…”

“Well, it’s not exactly easy to, given what I have to work with,” lamented the vampire, looking downwards at the coffin. “I hardly have any space in here, and it’s so very stuffy. Not only that, but I don’t even have any blankets, and it’s getting quite cold—Oh, the list just goes on.” Perhaps she had gotten too used to the comfort of the opera life, as for a good portion of her life she had been sleeping on stone streets, but she just couldn’t get used to how very enclosed the coffin was.

The werewolf girl cocked her head to the side. “That is sounding uncomfortable,” she agreed. “If that is the case, then maybe you could be sleeping in my bed?”

Dorothea looked over the other woman’s shoulder towards the bed in the corner. It certainly wasn’t anything extravagant, but to the former songstress, it looked like heaven in comparison to how very stuffy her aggravating coffin was. “Oh Petra, I couldn't ask you to give that up,” refused Dorothea. “Really, I’ll be alright! Hubie says I have to get used to it, that’s all.”

“I would not have to be giving up anything. My bed is big enough for the two of us,” Petra responded immediately, slightly perplexed with Dorothea’s response. “And I am having plenty of blankets. We could be sharing!”

Dorothea didn’t know why Petra’s response caused her cheeks to flare up and tint with pink, given that it was an innocuous suggestion. She hadn’t shared a bed with anyone before, and she had always considered such a ritual between married couples. But given the alternative was to force herself to stay within the confines of a cold coffin, perhaps she could force that presumption out of her head. “Sharing a bed with you… well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” she mused fondly. “Certainly more appealing than any old coffin.”

Petra perked up at Dorothea’s words. “Then… you will be agreeing?” she asked excitedly, her fuchsia tail poking out and beginning to flicker back and forth.

“Of course. How could I refuse a girl like you?” the vampire replied playfully, enjoying how adorable Petra got whenever she became excited. Teasing her had become one of her favorite past times, just to watch her reaction. She pulled herself from that dreaded coffin and kicked the door shut, bidding it good riddance. It certainly would not be missed.

“I will be taking you to bed, then,” Petra decided, cheeks warm with a blush. She offered her hand out towards the other girl, who gladly accepted. “Be following me.” Petra tugged the other girl gently towards her bed. She plopped herself down amongst the fur sheets, patting her side for Dorothea to join her. The vampire happily accepted the invitation, finding her spot next to Petra.

Immediately, Dorothea was met by how very warm and soft the furs were. The sheets had been expertly crafted and cleaned perfectly, so that the fur was still just as fluffy as when the creatures had been alive. She found herself melting into the covers, burying herself amongst them with a contented sigh. At her side, Petra settled into her own sheets and giggled, clearly enjoying the other woman’s reaction.

“Are you liking my sheets?” Petra asked. “I made them myself.”

“They’re lovely, Petra,” the vampire complimented, her voice soft. Emerald eyes gleamed lovingly at the other girl, and while she wished to allow sleep to claim her, she could not tear her gaze away from Petra, who was watching her fondly, her tail thumping still. “They’re very soft. I don’t think I’ve ever had blankets this soft before.”

“They are being from rare hunts in the Empire. As part of my training, I am allowed to be going hunting sometimes, and keeping the trophies. In Brigid, we are using furs frequently for clothing and bedding. Though I do enjoy the sheets of Fódlan, I am finding more comfort in furs. It makes things feel less… erm…” The woman’s eyebrows furrowed as she attempted to come up with the correct word. “Erm… illness of home.”

“It makes you feel less homesick,” corrected Dorothea.

“Yes,” Petra confirmed with a smile. “That is being correct.”

“I can’t blame you. They’re very soft. I could sleep like this for the rest of my life, if I had to,” she remarked, though as the words left her mouth, she wondered for a moment if they would indeed come true. When it came to matters that pertained to the rest of her very eternal life, she could not help but feel some anxiety over all the uncertainty that came with it. Her worries showed upon her face with a downcast frown, which Petra immediately noticed.

“Is something wrong, Dorothea?” Petra questioned, the swishing of her tail falling to a halt. “You are looking at me with sadness.”

Attempting to brush off her concerns from now, Dorothea shook her head into the pillow. “I’m fine, Petra. Just a bit of worry, that’s all. But I’d rather not concern myself over all that, not when sleep’s still calling me.”

“Of course, but please do not be hesitating to share with me your worries. I am willing to listen to everything you have to say,” the werewolf woman assured her cellmate with earnest. “I am not wanting you to have worries.”

For a moment, Dorothea felt her heart thrum loudly within her chest. She was so used to men who would insist on her spilling her deepest, most private thoughts so that they may use them against her to try to obtain what they wanted—usually sex—from her. But they had never worked, Dorothea had grown far too used to the masks her fans would cover their true desires with. But with Petra, it wasn’t like that, not at all. There was not a single dishonest bone in her body, and she had never attempted to bury the truth from the other woman. It was so very refreshing. 

“I will, Petra, I will…”

With that, Dorothea nodded off into a deep slumber, far more comfortable than any she had since her imprisonment. Whether it was because of the soft furs, the plush mattress, or the beautiful woman at her side, she didn’t know. 

* * *

It had become a nightly routine for Dorothea and Petra to share their bed together, and the coffin in the corner of the room had soon collected a thin layer of dust, forgotten in favor of silky furs. Dorothea cared not about following Hubert’s ridiculous orders, especially when there seemed little to no rhyme nor reason behind it. There were no windows to allow sunlight to beam through onto her vampiric skin, so concealing herself from the world seemed useless. 

Besides, not only were the sheets and the mattress a spectacular upgrade from the cold coffin, she was never alone at night. Though sleeping next to someone certainly took getting used to, Dorothea learned to grow accustomed to and even adore Petra’s presence alongside her, a reminder that she was not alone in this cruel world. 

Sometimes, at the crack of dawn, Dorothea would wake up to Petra nuzzled into the crook of her neck, or perhaps a stray arm slung around her waist. Such a thing would always alight her heart with a new sort of warmth with a meaning she could not quite place her finger on. 

Whatever it was, she could certainly grow used to it.

* * *

After two weeks of settling into her new life, Dorothea had begun training in order to become a soldier for the Empire. Due to her unique circumstances, joining in with the rest of the army in order to partake in drills was not a part of her schedule. Instead, each day at around eight PM at night, Hubert would whisk her away to a far corner of the castle to a seldom used room, consisting of only a red rug and a window that let peer in the moonlight. The spacious environment allowed for plenty of room for Dorothea to flourish, and in the glow of the moon, she found new vigor, as though she was a candle set aflame.

“Good evening, Dorothea,” Hubert greeted her upon her third night of training, his pale skin gleaming in the moonlight. “Tonight, I’ve brought a special guest.”

Indeed, next to the shadowy figure was a woman, clad in all black armor and decorated with a long cape that waved ever so slightly with the breeze that seeped through the open window. Blue hair matched her equally as blue eyes, which peered into Dorothea’s soul as though she could read it like an open book, causing the vampiress to shudder. They almost seemed completely vacant of emotion.

“I’m Byleth Eisner,” she introduced. “A former mercenary, and instructor to the Imperial Army.”

“A vampire appointed by Lady Edelgard herself, if I may say,” Hubert added in. “She is known far and wide as the Ashen Demon, mercilessly slaughtering her opponents without a single gleam of emotion within her eyes....”

What an introduction, Dorothea thought to herself as her calm expression wavered slightly. The title of Ashen Demon certainly seemed befitting of the woman before her, just from the few words that they had exchanged and by the way she held herself completely calm and upright, giving not a hint to her thoughts. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Instructor!” Dorothea greeted the newcomer cheerily, despite the nagging feeling of having her very soul gazed into. “I’m sure you already know who I am, but if you don’t, I’m Dorothea Arnault.”

“A fledgling vampire, yes. Edelgard has told me everything,” Byleth finished with a curt nod. “Tell me, how are you finding your meals?”

For the duration of her imprisonment, Dorothea had been fed nothing but the blood of animals, glassed finely as though it were wine. The taste of each specific type of blood was not so different from eating the meat of the animal itself, but left plenty to be desired in comparison to the rich flavor of feasting upon naive nobles that would flock to her by the dozen. “Fine, I suppose. I can’t quite ask for much else,” she answered. Though deep within, while she craved the taste of nobility once more, she forced herself to settle for the simple meals she was offered. Knowing that no humans would have to die for her continued existence if she managed to grow accustomed to the taste of bovine blood put her at ease.

“Is that so?” challenged Hubert. “It’s quite hard for a vampire to tear themselves away from the delicious blood of humans. Once they’ve gotten to taste fresh noble blood, there is nothing else quite like it.”

“Oh? And what about you, Hubie?” retaliated Dorothea. “You seem to speak from experience. Perhaps there’s someone you’re feasting on in your spare time, hm? A special someone, perhaps?”

“That is none of your concern,” Hubert replied, shutting down any sort of attempt to get under his skin. “What matters is that you are eating well enough to utilize your full potential.” 

“Yes, yes, I’ve been drinking the blood you’ve been giving me,” Dorothea reiterated. “Of course I’d rather something else, but I much prefer that no one’s harmed for my sake.” All the lives that she had claimed when she was forced to fend for herself still weighed heavily upon her shoulders. Sometimes, the eyes of nobles she had drunk dry reflected within her deepest nightmares, staring at her, voices whispering the word “monster” over and over again. The fledgling vampiress felt a shiver down her spine at the reminder of the voices that still haunted her, yet tried to push it from her mind. To train, she needed to be focused.

Byleth nodded. “Very good. I’m sure Hubert’s already explained to you that blood is the source of all vampire’s powers. If you aren’t feeding, you won’t be able to make use of all of them, and eventually, you’ll end up spiraling into a frenzied state of hunger. For now, I’ll be demonstrating a fraction of what you can expect.”

The experienced vampire woman retrieved a shimmering dagger from her belt, and with a swift motion, made a firm slice upon the tip of her index finger. Crimson red blood seeped from the wound, drawing Dorothea’s attention like a hunter to its prey. For a moment, she wondered if the purpose of such an action was to test her will, and though her throat burned momentarially, any possible thoughts of thirst vanished when drops of blood from Byleth’s fingertip began to mold together. A spiral of blood shot forth into the air, illuminated by the moon’s light, bending and reforming until it had taken upon the form of a sword. The weapon fell into the hand of Byleth, who caught it with ease.

“With enough practice, it’s possible for a vampire to fully control their own blood,” Byleth explained as she leaned down, reaching into a black handbag at her heels. From it, she retrieved a round orange, which she tossed up and down within the palm of her free hand. With a powerful throw, the fruit flung high into the air, but never got a chance to hit the ground. Byleth’s movements were so swift that Dorothea had nearly missed the flick of her wrist as she sliced the blade through the orange once, twice, three times, four times, until it had been split evenly into cleanly cut portions. They showered down upon the ground, and for a moment, Dorothea nearly thought one was going to hit her.

“An excellent performance. It’s no wonder that Lady Edelgard favors you,” remarked Hubert with a sly smirk. “I wonder if we can get our fledgling here to to such tricks, hm?”

It was indeed an impressive display, Dorothea thought to herself, as she stared at the pieces of sliced fruit scattered around the carpeted floor. Could she ever be capable of something like that? She had taught herself how to utilize a blade to defend herself, and even had discovered an affinity for magic that she seldom took advantage of in order to light herself a warm flame upon a winter’s night. 

“Well, I can certainly cast magic, if it’s not too different from that,” Dorothea piped in. “I became a bit of an expert at it in my free time, if I do say so myself, and it certainly did make for a spectacular performance on the stage.”

“If you try to think of it like magic, I’m sure it won’t be too difficult,” Byleth assured her, her lips barely curved upwards in the smallest of smiles. “You’ll need to drink plenty and frequently if you want to be able to control your blood so easily.” Just like that, the sword melted into droplets of blood once more and returned to Byleth’s fingertip, which promptly healed within a split second as though no injury had ever existed there. “If you’ve been drinking enough, giving it a try right now wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

Hubert nodded in agreement. “The faster we can get you accustomed to using blood magic, the better. Lady Edelgard chooses to allow us vampires into the army because they make for such excellent soldiers. Likewise, werewolves are permitted… they’re just far more wild.”

Dorothea held back any burning questions that surface in her mind upon hearing Hubert’s last remark, noting that she would have to inquire about them once the training session was done with. “So… should I do it just as you demonstrated, instructor?” she chose to ask instead. 

“Exactly like that, yes,” Byleth confirmed.

Nodding, the fledgling vampire attempted to mirror her instructor’s prior demonstration. She had no dagger to make use of, as hers had been confiscated sometime while she had been unconscious, so she instead placed the tip of her index finger to one of her pointed fangs and allowed it to prick her skin, drawing a bead of blood. As she extended her finger out as though pointing at something, she closed her eyes and envisioned the shape of a sword. She thought of the bead of blood just the same as the crackle of thunder magic upon the palm of her hand. Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as her sharp teeth gritted together, feeling the onset of a headache within the back of her skull. It felt the same as when she had first attempted to cast upon a cold night alone in the alleyway of Enbarr in a desperate pursuit to stay alive. Frustration had ebbed through her then, and the dying orphan had almost allowed the cruel, boney hands of winter to claim her. But she persisted, and soon enough, a single spark had flickered from her hand. The vampiress fought against the sharp pain that felt as though it was threatening to split her skull in two, thought of that night that she hadn’t allowed to take her life, and pressed onwards. 

Focus, focus, focus.

The blood upon her finger tip began to take shape, but not into the swords she so desired. Instead, it branched upwards into an intricate pattern, thin tendrils weaving their way through the air like vines growing upon a brick wall. Emerald eyes peeked open to observe her creation, and though it was hardly something that could be utilized as a weapon, it certainly was a start. 

“A fine display for a beginner,” Byleth decided. “I couldn’t expect you to manifest a solid weapon right away. It’s taken me years of practice to get that far.”

Hubert nodded starkly. “It shall do for now. Of course, you have all of eternity to practice. In return for our generosity for sparing your life, you are to become a lifelong servant of the Empire. I expect you will come to master your powers so that you may serve Lady Edelgard forever and always.” 

_ Forever and always, huh? _ Dorothea thought to herself bitterly. Spending life at the mercy of the Empire wasn’t exactly the future she had dreamt of on late nights spent wide awake after a performance, indulging in fantasies of romance akin to the happy endings upon the stage. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she would have preferred to have simply been executed. At least she wouldn’t be alone, not if the army intended on keeping Petra hostage alongside her. 

“Feel free to practice in your cell,” Byleth advised. “Let’s conclude training for tonight. I know using blood magic when you’re inexperienced can put a strain on your body and drive you to thirst, and I’d rather not wear you thin. Consider this an introduction to the rest of our lessons.” The vampire mercenary collected her bag from the ground alongside a few pieces of orange, which she dumped within the open bag. “Think about what I’ve taught you thus far. That’ll be all.”

Dorothea withdrew the pattern of blood that danced upon her fingertip back within her body, finding that her wound healed instantaneously, as though it was never there to begin with. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Instructor. I look forward to working with you some more!” she said cheerily, giving the vampire woman a signature wink. “Certainly much more pleasant than a certain dreary someone over here…”

Hubert seemed unperturbed by the jest. “Regardless of your personal opinions, Lady Edelgard has ordered me to oversee your training. I’d not dare go against her wishes, unless it was for the greater good.”

“I was teasing you, Hubie. Learn to take a joke, all right? You’re so very serious all the time. Lady Edelgard this, Lady Edelgard that… It’s almost as though you’re in love with her.”

Byleth stiffened a bit at the remark, and Hubert merely shook his head with the beginnings of a smirk decorating his features. “Far from it. She is my master, and I am her humble servant. My eternal life is dedicated to being by her side, regardless of the nature of our relationship. Besides, Lady Edelgard has found a different suitor.”

“Oh? Do fill me in on the details when you can. I’d love to hear all about it,” insisted Dorothea with a mischievous grin. Despite all that had happened, she still loved to indulge herself in matters of romance, even perhaps more so when it came to prying into the affairs of others. 

“That is hardly appropriate,” rejected Hubert with a sour frown. 

“Anyway,” Byleth interjected. “I’ll be taking my leave now. Goodnight, Dorothea. Goodnight, Hubert.”

“Goodnight, Byleth. Again, it was a pleasure!” Dorothea bid farewell.

With that, Byleth took her leave, her cape flowing behind her upon the wind as she exited the dark room and whisked herself down the hallways. How very mysterious, Dorothea thought to herself. Judging by Byleth’s reaction to Dorothea’s suggestion of romance between Hubert and Edelgard, she could make an educated guess as to who the object of the emperor’s affections was. She whistled lightly to herself, musing about how lucky the two of them were to have each other. Though, a question lingered in the back of her mind as she contemplated the possibility of an existing relationship between the two.

Edelgard was human, Byleth a vampire. How would a relationship like that work? Didn’t Byleth know that Edelgard would soon wither within a fraction of her vampiric lifespan? How could they indulge themselves in a romance, knowing that it would surely end in tragedy?

Perhaps she would find the opportunity to pry into that later. For now, there were other questions she wished to voice. 

Dorothea turned back towards the other vampire in the room. “So, Hubie. Got a few questions for you before you go sulk off somewhere, actually,” she spoke up. 

“I shall do my best to answer, unless they involve matters of my or her Majesty’s personal life.”

No fun, Dorothea thought to herself, though such wasn’t exactly what had been bothering her. “You said earlier… Edie allows werewolves in the army, but they’re more wild. Obviously, my roommate is a werewolf, and I quite frankly don’t know anything about the finer details of werewolves. Care to tell me more or will I be left to figure it all out on my own?”

“Ah, yes. The full moon is coming up, isn’t it?” Hubert commented with an amused smirk. “I suppose if Petra hasn’t filled you in quite yet, it’s only fair if I tell you what’s to come.”

The full moon… a whole moon had yet to pass since her arrival at the Imperial Castle, so she had yet to experience the effect it had on werewolves for herself. Of course, the most well known fact about werewolves was their transformation beneath the light of the full moon, but what was fiction and what was fact was beyond the vampire girl. 

“When the full moon rises, a werewolf will be transformed into a beast. An untamed werewolf cannot control their beastly form, and thus, often go on rampages. The transformation is terribly, terribly painful, and cannot be prevented. When the night of the full moon comes, Petra will be escorted into solitary confinement in a specially made chamber for containing her, so that she may do no harm. In addition, werewolves are known to take this form when they become enraged, making them quite difficult to deal with. Luckily, Petra has proven herself a rather calm individual, so we haven’t had the need to execute her. Usually, we’d do so if one of our soldiers were to become an uncontrollable beast. It would be dreadful if it ever came to that, given our circumstances with Brigid.” Hubert’s bright yellow eyes stared deeply into Dorothea’s green ones, still looking rather bemused. “A werewolf’s strength rivals that of a vampires, but I am certain you are in no immediate danger. If she were to ever go on a rampage, I am more than certain that you could fend for yourself. Likewise, if you were to go into a frenzy, Petra would have no issues dealing with you herself.”

Dorothea’s blood felt as though it had turned to ice at the revelation. Rage bubbled in her stomach at the idea that the Empire had even thought about executing Petra for what she had become, and her eyes narrowed to slits. “Why did you even put us together in the first place?” she questioned.

“Perhaps the two of you could learn from each other’s circumstances,” Hubert suggested. “Also, her Majesty had insisted. Despite being the all powerful emperor, she still has a soft side, and felt sorry that Petra had been alone all these years. Would you rather be alone?”

“No, absolutely not,” Dorothea replied within a second. “I was just… wondering. That’s all.”

Even with that response, it felt as though she had gained more questions than answers. What did he mean when they could learn from each other’s circumstances?

Time would tell, she supposed.

* * *

As the full moon drew closer still, Dorothea had spent a majority of her free time simply idling around by Petra’s side, at least whenever the werewolf was not taken out for training. The woman did not seem to tire of her new roommate’s presence in the slightest, and would greet Dorothea every morning with a wagging tail and a brilliant smile ranging from ear to ear. It was clear that years spent in isolation had taken its toll upon the poor princess, for she reveled in every opportunity to speak with her newfound friend, no matter what the topic of conversation was.

A particular conversation about the fashion of Brigid led the two down a long winding road until Dorothea had found herself seated on the floor in front of the princess, fingers tangling in brown locks of hair. A small giggle passed through Dorothea’s lips as Petra’s curious hands stroked her silky smooth hair, exploring. 

“Your hair has such softness,” Petra commented. “I am having jealousy.”

“Well, Edie was kind enough to tell some guards to get the soaps I like. I have a very specific hair care routine that I’m more than happy to teach you, if you want,” Dorothea elaborated with a warm smile. “But I’m sure your hair is just as lovely, Petra. You must take good care of it in order to put it up every day in braids like that.”

“That is the truth. I am not wanting to lose my heritage, even though I am a soldier of the Empire, so I am always braiding it. I am thinking you will be looking beautiful with braids of Brigid…”

Petra fumbled with a hair tie left strung around her wrist, slinging it off. She gathered Dorothea’s hair within her hands and began to work her magic, dexterous fingers lacing locks of hair over one another. She was gentle yet meticulous in her methods, and Dorothea found herself enjoying every moment. A soft hum resounded from her throat, echoing against the stone walls of their shared chamber, simply basking in the feeling of Petra’s soft hands braiding her hair.

“This could be taking a little while,” Petra warned. “I do not want to be messing up.”

“That’s fine, Petra. We’ve got all the time in the world,” Dorothea reminded her lightheartedly. “Hubie and I aren’t training tonight. He said he had other, far more important matters to tend to.” What those were, Dorothea couldn’t possibly imagine, but the curious devil within her certainly wished to press him on the subject, no matter how little the stern servant would budge.

Petra seemed curious about the matter as well. “More important than training? I do not have understanding. Hubert is a funny man,” she remarked. 

“Funny? I suppose that’s one way of describing him…” replied Dorothea, though finding the adjective not befitting of the man. “Maybe Hubie’s got a secret lover. That would certainly be interesting…”

Befuddlement graced Petra’s features. “You are saying Hubert may have a mate of his soul? I am not in agreement. I cannot be imagining that…” she trailed off, fingers focused on weaving the vampire’s soft hair. 

“A soulmate, huh,” sighed Dorothea, eyes focusing on a knick in the stone wall as a wistful glimmer formed in her eyes. “I wonder if such a thing really exists. There’s plenty of talk of soulmates in romance novels, in operas, all that, but… I certainly haven’t found mine. And, well, now that I’m immortal, I’m certain I won’t have a happy ending.”

Petra’s hands paused their motions. “Is that is what you have been worrying about?” the princess asked gently. “That you will not find the mate of your soul?”

“Something like that, I suppose,” Dorothea answered back. “It’s not really a big deal though. I have plenty of other things to worry about besides romance.”

“Even so, it is a worry you are harboring. I do not think it is wrong of you to be having this worry,” the princess insisted. Her fingers resumed her work, still steady. “In Brigid, we are having legends about soulmates. It is said that every being is born connected to another, that they are being bound by fate to meet each other, no matter what may happen. Even if you may end up losing the mate of your soul early, it is impossible not to be meeting them… and having a happy time.” Though Dorothea could not see Petra’s expression from her position in front of her, the vampire imagined that the princess was smiling softly, her brown eyes gleaming with warmth as they so often did. “Even though I am being a werewolf and won’t die of age, I know that I will meet my soulmate one day, even if they are dying long before me. No matter how many years we have together, I know I will always be cherishing them.”

It was so like Petra to bear such a positive and cheery outlook despite the grim circumstances, Dorothea thought to herself. Perhaps the condition was contagious, for the vampire was now smiling as well. “Petra… what a lovely thought,” she whispered. “Whoever ends up being your soulmate, I hope they treat you well. You deserve the entire world, you know.”

“You have my gratitude, but you are saying such strange things…! You are making me blush…” half-laughed Petra. 

“It’s true, you know. You’re wonderful. I couldn’t ask for a better cellmate,” complimented Dorothea. “I’ll make sure your soulmate is someone who can appreciate all you have to offer, all right?”

“Sounds like a plan!” agreed Petra.

The two of them remained in silence for a long few minutes which felt more like a handful of hours. All the while, Dorothea allowed her mind to wander, thinking over the words that Petra had shared with her. Though she had never believed in gods or any higher power, perhaps for a moment she could allow herself to indulge in the beliefs that the princess had introduced. It was far more romantic to consider the idea of everyone having a soulmate that they would certainly meet, rather than the alternative hers dying long before they got a chance to speak. Her days upon the unrelenting streets of Enbarr as a tiny orphaned child had taught her that faith was worthless in the face of harsh reality, and thus, she had never allowed to consider that something out there was controlling her fate, leading her towards that special someone.

Then, a dangerous thought popped into Dorothea’s mind.

Maybe it already had.

“All done!” Petra proclaimed. Her hands pulled away from Dorothea’s hair as she sat them upon either side of her waist instead. “Would you like to be looking?”

“Of course!” Dorothea responded enthusiastically.

The princess reached for the hand mirror she had placed at her side upon the red couch, handing it to the former songstress. In the reflection, Dorothea saw brown hair braided neatly and expertly into a single, long braid, held together by smaller braids. A small gasp fled from her mouth as a hand tentatively brushed up against the side of her head, feeling the way her hair was woven. It was certainly a style she had never once tried before, and it looked nothing short of fantastic, though Dorothea pondered whether or not the style suited her. Regardless, it was clear that Petra had put plenty of effort into making sure everything was perfect. In the corner of the mirror, the vampire could see the princess beaming with pride, chest puffed out.

“It looks wonderful, Petra,” breathed Dorothea, in awe of the other woman’s talent. “You’re very skilled.”

“You are looking beautiful with hair of Brigid!” Petra admired. “Erm… I am meaning to say, you are always looking beautiful, but…” As the werewolf frantically scrambled to correct herself, Dorothea simply laughed.

“It’s all right, Petra. I know what you mean,” she assured her. “Thank you… for all of this. I really enjoy this time we spend together.”

“I am in agreement. I am enjoying your company greatly! I must be offering my thanks for keeping me from being lonely. For many years, I have not been allowed to speak with others often… but now, I have you!” Petra gushed. Though Dorothea could not see it, she could tell Petra’s tail was wagging frantically by the sound of rapid thumping upon the couch. 

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine. And I have to thank you for doing the same. I’d probably lose my mind in here without you, Petra.”

Dorothea glanced over her shoulder, meeting the smiling Petra with a grin of her own. As she peered into brown eyes so full of joy, the songstress had one single thought.

Petra was dangerously cute.

* * *

And then came the full moon.

Dorothea had awoken that day to the sound of a key slipping through the lock to her chambers, twisting and pushing the door open. Groggily, she gazed on as a group of heavily armored guards made their way in, completely unannounced, carrying with them a rather large wooden box that seemed quite heavy, judging by the fact that three whole guards had to hoist it up. With a loud crash, the box dropped to the floor, forcing Petra awake with a start.

“Good morning, Petra Macneary,” greeted a stern voice. 

Though she was still dazed from sleep, the werewolf woman nodded back in response solemnly. “...It is being quite early,” she pointed out. 

“Yes, well, we have orders to take you in now. Get up.”

Reluctantly, the werewolf slid from her asylum of silky fur sheets and took her place in front of the guards, stretching her arms out in front of her with a rigid frown upon her face. Dorothea peered at the commotion from her shelter underneath a deer pelt, eyes laden with worry. The box was opened, and a guard produced a long, heavy chain from within. Petra winced as the chain was wrapped around her wrists and then snaked down the length of her arms, the magically enhanced steel burning her sensitive skin. A foreign word escaped through Petra’s lips, one that Dorothea assumed was a swear of some sort. Several more heavy chains joined the ones upon her arms, binding her stomach, her shoulders, but not yet her legs. Surely, if she were human, Petra would collapse under the weight of the hefty steel. 

The vampire gritted her teeth together, frustrated with the way that the guards were treating Petra. At no point did the Brigid Princess fight back against her restraints, she simply submitted to the will of the guards. It was evident that this procedure was standard for her, and now she was far too used to the precautions she was forced to endure upon the night of the full moon. 

“Petra!” Dorothea spoke out, unable to stand idly by. She freed herself from her sheets, her uncombed brown hair tumbling downwards upon her red silk nightgown. Anger burned deep within her green eyes, which she made evident towards the guards. “Don’t you think you’re all being a bit too harsh?”

One of the guards simply shook his head. “This procedure is standard. Her Highness is kind enough to allow this prisoner to be free of her chains normally,” he told her simply. “Now then, don’t interfere, or we’ll have to restrain you as well.”

“For what? Trying to help a friend?” argued Dorothea, eyebrows slanting. “There has to be a way—”

“—Do not be worrying, Dorothea,” Petra interrupted her, shooting her cellmate a forced smile that tinged with sorrow. “I am used to this by now. I will be back tomorrow.”

Dorothea’s stomach churned with uneasiness. She bit down upon her lower lip, fangs poking outward. “If you say so, then…” she accepted, though worry still laced her tone. “...Just know that I’ll be thinking of you, Petra.”

To that, Petra’s fraudulent grin turned genuine. “You have my gratitude for everything. When you are saying such things, you are making my heart feel full,” she confessed, the faintest of blushes growing upon her cheeks. “I will be fine, I am promising you this.”

Despite Petra’s words, Dorothea could not stall the feeling of apprehension within her heart. Still, such a sincere reply sent butterflies fluttering within her stomach. “I’ll see you soon then, Petra.”

“Yes! I will be waiting with patience,” replied the woman.

With that, Dorothea stepped back and allowed the guards to finish their work, which consisted mostly of lacing chains all over Petra’s body, still clad in her nightgown with long hair not yet strung into her signature braids. Their work was concluded when a steel collar was snapped upon the princess’s neck, bound by yet another chain, reminiscent of a dog on a leash. The four guards took their positions upon each side of Petra and the one in front grasped upon her leash, tugging her forward without a warning. The princess yet again hissed out another foreign swear, startled by the roughness. Dorothea had to physically hold herself back to prevent herself from lashing out at how inconsiderate the guards were, as they seemed not to care about the pain the Brigid princess was experiencing. The door was slammed shut, key locking it firmly behind. 

Dorothea was now completely alone. 

* * *

For the rest of the morning and afternoon, Dorothea indulged herself in some of the books that had been left for her. Edelgard was kind enough to grant her wish for several opera scripts to be stocked upon the shelves. Though they were supposed to entertain her, Dorothea was left feeling empty as she read through stage directions and lines of dialogue, wondering to herself how Mittelfrank was doing without her. Manuela had informed Dorothea that the rest of the company had not been informed about her imprisonment, and were instead left to believe that one of her many obsessive fans had finally succeeded in their plot to kidnap her. According to the older woman, chaos and disorder had ensued upon the loss of their star songstress, and they had been forced to cancel the ongoing opera. Dorothea had always known that her stardom wouldn’t last, but to have it ended so forcefully made her ache. 

To put her mind at ease, Dorothea began to recite from memory a few songs that she had long ago sung. Scripts abandoned, she pressed herself to the wall and allowed herself to become lost in the lyrics, her voice slowly growing louder and louder as she found her soul put at ease. How long had it been since she had allowed herself to sing like this? 

As the day went on, Dorothea had lost all sense of time. It was always hard to determine how late it had gotten within a room with no windows nor clock, with the only indication being her scheduled meal deliveries. As usual, at six PM, a guard appeared to wordlessly push a silver platter into the room, but this time, the only thing upon it was a single glass of crimson blood, unlabeled.

Dorothea easily tore herself away from her operas to fetch the bottle, which she popped open with little effort. She pressed the rim to her lips and allowed her dinner to seep into her mouth. Her tongue was graced by the unmistakable taste of swine blood, tasting just as though it were a piece of cut pork upon a plate. Though it was hardly a satisfactory meal, the vampire could not complain. Sighing, she placed the half-full bottle next to her, droplets of blood trickling down her lips from her crimson-stained fangs and rolling off her chin like gentle rain. Her eyes gazed lazily at the ceiling, mind brooding over her circumstances.

As she reached to grasp for her bottle once more, a sudden rumble overtook the castle, jerking the unsteady glass forward and toppling it over. A sea of crimson leaked upon the floor, and Dorothea hurried to flip it upright to keep the loss of her meal to a minimum. She held the bottle steady as another rumble resounded throughout the room, shaking the ground alongside it. 

As she stood, mind racing, a loud crash echoed from underneath. High pitched screams and cries of pain flooded the walls, making Dorothea’s heart race. She did not need to think twice about whose voice it was.

Petra.

Tortured shouts screeched from underneath as another wave of trembles overtook the room. Dorothea’s mouth was left agape, eyes widened, panic flooding her every cell. Oh gods, that was Petra who was screaming.

“Ugh, this again?” complained a voice from outside. “Damn beast doesn’t know how to shut her trap. Every single full moon, I tell ya! Every full moon, I have to listen to this bitch screaming!”

“Should just kill the thing and get it over with,” agreed another voice. “Fuck, I’ve read about werewolf transformations once or twice. It’s like every damn bone in your body breaks or somethin’ real nasty like that.”

“I don’t give a damn why she’s screaming, it’s annoying! All night, every fucking full moon! I’m not gonna get a wink of sleep!” 

As if on cue, another scream rocked the castle, vibrations shuddering through every wall. A motion like something heavy slamming into the ground sent tremors up to Dorothea’s room, causing books to fly off of the shelf. Her heart lurched within her chest as she stood there in shock, Petra’s words repeating in her mind. She said she was going to be fine. 

She had lied.

Horrifying, shrill wails reverberated from every corner of the castle, Petra’s cries of pain being displayed in full to every single member of the Imperial Army. To listen to her friend scream was torture to Dorothea, and she soon found herself huddled within heavy fur sheets upon their shared bed, half wishing to drown out the pained cries and half wanting to listen, to hear exactly what Petra was being forced to endure. Was it like this every full moon? This horrible, agonizing pain, was it what she had to put up with each moon?

Dorothea could not do anything but listen as torturous screams evolved into animalistic howls, and suddenly, the castle became far more unsteady. She could hear claws desperately ripping at chains, frantic shouts between guards as they argued whether or not they needed further protection against the beast that had been unleashed from the form of a young woman upon the night. A loud crack of unidentified magic shuddered through the floor, followed by the agonized screech of a beast. It wasn’t terribly hard to guess what was going on in the dungeon beneath.

For the entire night, Dorothea listened, wide awake, as the torture continued underneath. It was only when the dawn had come and the shrieks had faded into unnerving silence that she finally slipped into a brief, nightmare-laden sleep, very aware of how empty the bed felt without Petra.

* * *

The door creaked open.

A horde of guards entered the cell, bringing with them a worn out young woman, pain and misery reflected within her brown eyes. The chains binding her clicked open and fell to the floor with a heavy clunk, forcing the slumbering vampire from her nightmares. Without another word, the guards left and locked the door behind, the slam of the door vibrating through the walls. 

Dorothea shot up in the bed, eyes immediately locking onto the other woman. Though no scars remained of her torment from last night, it was evident that she had been completely defeated. Tears were welling up within the werewolf’s eyes, and to see them broke Dorothea’s heart.

“Petra,” whispered Dorothea. 

“Dorothea. I have returned,” Petra told her emotionlessly. “Thank you for waiting.”

Oh, the things she wished to say, but Dorothea could not find exactly what she wanted to convey. Instead, she opted to pat the space beside her. “Come here, Petra. Lie down,” she instructed. “You must be exhausted.”

“I am,” she replied. Accepting the other woman’s invitation, she collapsed onto the furry sheets beneath, jaw clenched, tears spilling over. “You have my apologies if you were not sleeping last night.” 

“That doesn’t matter,” Dorothea brushed off. “Does it still hurt?”

The princess nodded starkly. 

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

A nervous breath passed through Dorothea’s lips as she swallowed uncomfortably, anxiety shaking her core. “Is there anything I can do to help ease the pain?” she asked, though she knew there was little to be done. Despite being an experienced mage, she had never been able to grasp the use of white magic. “I can give you a massage, or—“

“Please. Hold me, Dorothea,” requested Petra, her voice barely above a whisper. 

And so, she did. Arms tangled around Petra’s back, pulling the other woman close to the warmth of her body. The princess’s stiff muscles visibly relaxed as a shaky breath she had been holding in finally left her throat, and her own arms locked themselves onto Dorothea’s waist. Her nose buried itself within the crook of Dorothea’s neck as a muffled sob vibrated against the songstress’s skin. Hot tears cascaded down the other woman’s neck and rolled down her chest, and all the while, Dorothea hugged her tightly. She listened to each and every one of Petra’s cries, listened to the foreign words that tumbled from her lips. She allowed Petra to cry until her tears had run dry and the sobbing had been reduced to nothing but sniffles. 

For how long had she endured this torture, all alone with no one to comfort her? How many times had she returned to her cell and cried upon her pillow, with no one to listen to her fears? 

“I’m here for you, Petra,” breathed Dorothea. “You’re not alone anymore. You’ll never be alone again. I’ll always, always, be here…”

“Thank you,” whispered Petra onto the skin of the songstress’s neck. “If it is not being too selfish of me to ask… will you hold me for a while longer…?”

“Yes. Of course, Petra,” answered the vampire. “I’ll hold you forever, if you wish.”

The embrace the two of them were locked into soon molded into something a bit different as Petra nudged Dorothea lightly onto the bedsheets, toppling her backwards with a soft echo. Limbs twisted around each other while furs were pulled atop, coating them in a newfound warmth. Petra snuggled herself tightly against the other woman, heartbeat and breath steadying, body relaxing. Her fuchsia tail emerged and began to wave in response the comfort of Dorothea’s embrace, and soon enough, the slightest of smiles had overtaken her tear-stained face. Dorothea’s fingers found themselves stroking through Petra’s untamed mane of hair, still tangled and frayed from the horrors she faced the night before. After a few minutes had passed, the vampire found that her princess had fallen into a gentle slumber, chest steadily rising and falling. 

Now that she had come face to face with the reality of what Petra had been forced to suffer through for the past couple of years, Dorothea knew that it couldn’t continue. Rage consumed her very soul as she thought about how the Empire had allowed this to continue, knowing well how painful it was for the poor werewolf. Surely there had to be a way to solve this, to make it so that Petra would not have to undergo such terrors each and every full moon. From the depths of her anger birthed newfound determination, and soon enough, Dorothea was already theorizing ways to make sure that the next moon would not be the same, nor any moon after it.

She would help tosave Petra from this cruel fate, no matter what it took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK OK I'm almost done with the angst, really. I hope you enjoyed the angst though, and of course, the fluffy parts.
> 
> After this I'll continue with Love and the Ocean's Breeze but I also really wanna write about werewolf Dorothea, because I LOVE werewolves. I'm going to milk October for all it's worth.
> 
> If you liked this, please leave a kudo and a comment! It really goes a long way to help. Until next update.


	3. Part Three: New Desires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. I had massive writers block last week and was very stressed. 
> 
> There's some Edeleth in this chapter, so skip through the scene if you'd rather not read about that.

“You wish to do… what exactly?”

Hubert’s voice echoed throughout the spacious training room, empty save for a few wooden targets the sinister servant had dragged in, etched with scars from previous encounters. 

“I want to help Petra,” Dorothea repeated, green eyes showing determination within. “What I heard last night… It was awful. Is that what happens every full moon? Every single time?”

The senior vampire nodded. “Indeed. There is little that can be done. Every full moon, werewolves must undergo a most painful transformation. Every bone in their body breaks as they change from human to beast, and they slowly lose control of their mind. If not contained, they are capable of overpowering and killing entire armies,” explained Hubert, the moonlight casting through the sole window making him look rather haunting. “As harsh as the procedures may seem, the alternate would be simply putting our little princess out of her misery. Would you rather that?”

Dorothea ground her teeth together in frustration, her knuckles growing white with how tightly they were clenched. Torturous screams repeated endless within the back of her mind like an insane mantra, haunting her as a ghost would. Nothing could silence the torment she felt the night before, forced to listen as her best friend endured her entire body breaking and transforming, followed by the guards striking her with bolts of magic to keep her form weak. 

“I refuse to believe that,” answered the fledgling vampire back. “There must be  _ something _ you haven’t tried…”

The former opera singer mulled it over in the back of her mind, a fingernail lightly scratching the tip of her chin. There was little she knew about werewolves aside from the few operas that had been written about the beasts, though she could hardly account for whether or not they were based on fact or fiction. In one particular opera, a beastly prince was transformed back into a human by a true love’s kiss, though that was one that Dorothea figured was simply romantic conjecture. Perhaps there was some sort of miracle potion that could prevent the transformation entirely, or at least some medicine that would ease the pain. 

Regardless of whether or not something like that existed, one thing was for sure:

Dorothea would not allow Petra to be alone any longer.

“Let me go with her next moon,” Dorothea spoke up.

Hubert raised a curious eyebrow. “Oh? Whatever for?”

“She’s been alone all this time, Hubie. Locked in some room, forced to transform into a beast with no company except the guards who attack her… I know she’s lonely. I know it’s a long shot, but… Maybe if she has someone, then…” she mused, concern etched upon her features. “...Maybe, just maybe it’ll be different.”

The vampire servant crossed his arms underneath his chest as he stared at her with the slightest of wicked grins, yellow eyes like a snake’s gazing at her intently. “How very interesting,” he commented. “And are you not worried about what she might possibly do to you? When she is a beast, she is Petra Macneary no longer. She will not recognize you as anything but an enemy, an obstacle to her freedom.”

Of course the thought scared her. How could it not? She was still but a fledgling vampire, one who barely sustained herself off bottled animal blood and could only conjure the beginnings of a small dagger with her blood magic. Yet, at the same time, she held power far greater than any human being. Her vampirism granted her speed beyond the limits of mortals, and should she need to flee, she could do so in a matter of seconds. 

But it would not come to that. She wouldn’t allow it to.

“Quite frankly, I don’t care about all that, Hubie,” Dorothea challenged. “I can hold my own, you know! Even before I was a vampire, I fought off all kinds of horrible people, sometimes even several at once. I’d hardly allow myself to be killed, and certainly not by my dearest Petra of all people.”

Hubert looked rather amused by the suggestion. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to give it a try,” he replied. “However, it is not my decision to make. It is up to Lady Edelgard to make the final call.”

“Well, you can tell Edie everything I’ve said. And even if she says no, I don’t intend on backing down. I’ll drag myself down there with Petra if I have to,” the determined woman continued, eyes glimmering with ferocity. “She’s been suffering for too long, Hubie. I absolutely refuse to let her suffer any longer.”

The vampire servant chuckled lightly, leather-clad fingers stroking the tip of his chin. “How very interesting…” he muttered to himself. “Perhaps Lady Edelgard made the right call to spare you from execution. I’ll certainly look forward to it.”

Though there were times where the former opera singer pondered why she had been spared, and whether or not it would have been better if she had simply been killed, now was certainly not one of those times. Slowly, as the days went on, the grave wishes that someone would drive a stake through her heart were waning. Perhaps she had finally found a purpose in this immortal life. 

* * *

As the next moon approached, Dorothea took her time to do some research into the matter of werewolves. She had requested that Edelgard provide her with books and research on the topic of lycanthropy, which the emperor had decided to fulfill upon hearing Dorothea’s desperate pleas. Whenever she was not practicing or conversing with Petra, she would indulge herself in the readings. Most of the books that had accurate information on lycanthropes were old and rickety, bound with string that was on the verge of falling apart. The pages were yellowed and torn in some areas, with a few stains of an unknown origin plaguing some sections. 

Still, no matter how worn the books were, they provided decent information, though not exactly what she had been looking for. There were in fact a handful of ways to stop a werewolf from transforming upon the full moon, but all of them involved utilizing weaknesses of the beasts: wolfsbane, silver, and other such poisons. Exposing them to such substances would gravely injure them and stunt their body’s ability to transform, but would often lead to horrible illness that more often than not ended in death. Thus, such an option was hardly viable, as Dorothea did not wish to put Petra at risk. The whole purpose of her research was to prevent harm from coming to the other woman in the first place, and poisoning her was the opposite of her objective. In fact, a large portion of the books she had been given were simply dedicated to describing how to slay a rogue werewolf rather than how to help one. 

Luckily, it had provided a bit of insight into how the transformation actually worked. The entire process would begin as soon as the sun began to set, usually just with a slight dizziness and headache. As the moon came up, the transformation would begin with bones shattering and breaking, causing immense pain for the unfortunate werewolf. It usually took around two hours for the creature’s body to shift into that of a beast: resembling an enormous wolf that stood upon two legs. When in wolf form, all their memories of their human life were suppressed. They would act upon pure instinct—usually the instinct to attack—and could not recognize those they held dear. 

It seemed that there was plenty that Dorothea had to work out on her own, but she would not allow herself to falter at the lack of information. 

As time went on, Dorothea had found herself becoming quite fond of her cellmate. Simply talking with her had become the vampire’s favorite pastime, more so than browsing through old opera scripts that did nothing but remind her of the life she had been torn from. She enjoyed listening to Petra enthusiastically talk about her homeland, describing the fauna and traditions that were far different from Fódlan. Though the warriors of Brigid valued hunting more so than much else, they were also peaceful. They never killed without reason, and honored everyone who came to pass, including their enemies. They believed wholeheartedly in the Spirits that governed their land, that would bless their harvests and hunts and guide them towards their chosen destiny… and their soulmate. Everyone—commoner or noble—was treated as any other: as a close friend. 

It sounded nice. Far nicer than the harsh streets of Fódlan, of which Dorothea knew far too well from her time spent wandering as an urchin child. A part of her longed to see the humid, sunny shores of Brigid, but she knew that wish was not to be. It was just another pipe dream, one that would surely be washed away by the cruel waves of time like everything else she had longed for up until this point. 

Yet, in her dreams, she would allow her mind to wander. She dreamt of the ocean’s green waves brushing the sandy beach, hand placed within Petra’s own hand. All worries about their supernatural circumstances melted underneath the hot Brigid sun, and all they had to think of was each other. 

It was odd how such dreams ended with Dorothea awakening the next morning with her arms tangled around Petra’s back, the werewolf's nose buried within the crook of her neck. 

Very odd indeed.

* * *

Once again, upon the day the full moon would rise, the guards woke Petra and Dorothea up at the crack of dawn. They came bearing the same hefty, wooden box as before, filled to the brim with magical chains that looked as though they weighed tons. This time, when Petra was forced out of her bed, Dorothea stood as well.

“Are you having certainty?” Petra asked once again, an apprehensive grimace upon her face as two soldiers chained her arms behind her back, magic searing pallid scars into her skin. “When I am turning into a beast, I am not having control over myself. I could be hurting you.”

“You won’t hurt me, Petra,” replied Dorothea with absolute confidence. A third guard was latching a steel collar upon her neck, also laced with the same supernatural repellent. She could feel the intense burning upon the sensitive flesh of her neck, especially the sore spot where she had been bitten. “I’ve told you all sorts of stories about the kinds of men I met when I was a songstress. Believe me, an angered fan of mine is far worse than any sort of werewolf, and definitely more of a beast.” 

The vampire’s attempt at humor did not seem to lessen Petra’s worries, for the frown remained. “But… I am not wanting to hurt you. And…” Worry flashed within her brown eyes as she looked for the words she wished to say. “...I am not wanting you to be seeing me… when I am a beast. I am worried that you will be thinking less of me. That you will not want to be thinking of me as a friend anymore.”

“Petra…” whispered Dorothea, eyes painting over with sorrow as she learned the truth behind the young werewolf’s worries. “Something like that couldn’t ever change my mind. I already know what happens when a werewolf transforms, and I promise I won’t think any less of you when you do.” Sentimental thoughts were beginning to cloud over Dorothea’s mind, and she almost halted herself from allowing them to spill over. But now was not the time to be shy. “You’ve been such a good friend to me since I came here. You’ve helped me remain positive despite my horrible, horrible situation, and for that, I am eternally grateful! Really, I…” A breath hitched in her throat, forcing her to pause. “...I’m just really glad I met you, Petra. And I would never, ever allow anything related to your beast form to cloud my judgement. I’m a monster too, after all.”

The werewolf’s expression glimmered into the slightest of smiles, but only just. “I have gratitude for your words, but… I am not thinking of you as a monster. I am thinking of you as my friend.”

“See? Just because you turn into a wolf doesn’t make you any more of a monster than I am. Point is, Petra, that no matter what I see down there, my opinion of you won’t change. You’re my closest friend, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

Those words were enough to convince Petra, who beamed and nodded firmly. “I have understanding now. You have my thanks… for this, and for everything,” she spoke warmly. 

“Of course, Petra. Of course.”

Following a rather grueling process of making sure all their chains were set in place, the guards tugged the two women out of their cell, leaving the room completely desolate for the first time since Dorothea had arrived. Though anxiety bubbled within Dorothea’s throat as she was led down a spiral staircase made of harsh stone and lit only by dim torches, she forced herself to swallow any fears that were brewing. Whatever she was feeling was something that Petra had to go through every single full moon, though the rigid huntress did not show a hint of fear in her eyes. She had already steeled herself for the night to come, knowing exactly what was to come. 

But this time, it would be different. Dorothea was determined to make it so.

The two women were guided into a chamber underneath the castle and into a sturdy cell sealed with the finest of magic-blessed steel. Petra was quickly held against a stone wall and attached to a series of hooks and chains embedded within, an elaborate contraption designed to make sure she could barely move. She hissed in pain as a tight chain bound her to the wall, clicking in place above her head. When all was said and done, the guards retreated behind the bars of the cage and locked the two firmly within, but not beyond the heavily reinforced exit.

Petra smiled wearily at the other woman, clearly pained by the metal scathing her flesh. She wriggled slightly against her chains, but there was little room for movement. Her wrists were bound above her head, her body tightly held against the wall by chains in an X formation across her chest and stomach. 

“So… this is it, huh?” Dorothea commented, looking rather bleak. “They keep you in here all day, chained like this.”

“Yes,” Petra answered immediately. “I am told it is, erm, necessary for them to begin early, to make sure that I am not escaping.”

That response was not satisfactory to the vampire, who simply frowned. “How cruel,” she commented, not caring that the guards on the other side of the bars could hear them. They were far too preoccupied with sharpening their weaponry, anyway. “How do you bear it? Just… sitting here all day, waiting...” 

“I try sometimes to take a nap. I am used to sleeping in chains. But it is never good sleep,” she confessed, face contorting in sorrow. “When I am dreaming in chains, I am dreaming of terrible things. I am dreaming of… my father being killed in battle by the Empire… of being stolen from my homeland… of being stuck here forever, never seeing Brigid again.” She shook her head. “I am not wanting to sleep. But there is nothing else to be doing… so I allow the nightmares to come.”

“Petra…” breathed Dorothea, eyes shining over with heartbreak. The more that she learned about the endless stream of torment that her friend was forced to endure every full moon, the more she began to hate the Empire. Even though she knew that there was little to be done, she could not help the spark of fury that simmered within the pit of her stomach, fueled each passing day. This poor girl had been stolen away from her homeland as only a terrified child, mere days after losing her father, and then transformed into a monster. “I’m sorry, I… I don’t know what to say. That’s truly awful…”

“It is alright. I am used to it,” Petra shrugged off. “Besides, the ones that were stealing me away from my homeland are gone now. Ever since she has become emperor, Lady Edelgard has been showing me kindness. At first, she was trying to make the full moon easier on me… but I was refusing her offers. I was not wanting to be hurting anyone, to be killing anyone. So… I made my decision to choose this instead.”

Despite all that had happened to her up until this point, Dorothea couldn’t help but notice how complaisant Petra was. She did not show aggression towards her captors, nor did she ever voice a desire to bring harm to them. It was rather strange. “Don’t you ever get angry about everything that’s happened to you?” she had to ask. 

“Of course I am having anger,”’ the huntress replied solemnly. “When I first came to the Empire and met the son of my father’s killer, I was overcome with such anger. Even though we became friends, I was not able to stop thinking of my father every time he smiled, or every time he was laughing. I wanted to kill him, to be taking my revenge. But then… then I realized. To be hurting, to be harming someone over such things… it is having no point. The Empire that stole me from Brigid, the Empire that killed my Father… that is not the same Empire as now. More than I am wishing for revenge, I am wishing for peace between Brigid and Fódlan. For that reason, even though I am wanting to, I will not be returning to Brigid until I have achieved my goal of becoming stronger… my goal of changing the Empire from a place that was doing war with my homeland, to a place that is friends with my homeland.”

Dorothea listened intently to Petra’s words, and all the while, she could not help but feel impressed by the strong-hearted girl. “You’re… really something, Petra,” admired Dorothea. “You’re impossibly strong, going through all of this… You might just be the strongest person I know!”

“That is not having possibility,” objected Petra with a soft smile. “Because you are knowing of yourself!”

The vampire was flattered by such a response, so much so that her cheeks began to burn brightly, but she shook off the reply. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly be—”

“ —When I am hearing stories about the sorts of people who tried to do awful things to you, I am feeling anger… anger that these people would be trying to hurt you,” admitted Petra, interrupting her friend’s response. “But I am also feeling impressed. Even though people were hurting you, you were still chasing your dreams to be on the stage. I am thinking we have many similarities in that way.”

“Oh yeah? You may just be right, Petra,” realized Dorothea. “We’re certainly both trouble for Imperial nobility, aren’t we? We make a good pair, you and I.”

“I am in agreement. I am lucky to be having you here! Now I can be talking to you all day, instead of having nightmares.”

“Now that sounds like a good idea. We have plenty of time to spare, after all… so why not make use of it? Now then, what should we talk about…”

As the two of them got lost in a mixture of conversation, the day drifted onwards, time passing exceedingly quickly. The morning came and went, followed by the afternoon. The guards brought in food at the regularly scheduled hours, and Dorothea assisted in helping Petra eat her raw meat through the abundance of chains that held her to the wall. As conversation continued late into the day and Dorothea sipped upon her swine blood, she noted to herself how the taste seemed a bit duller than usual. Perhaps she was simply getting used to the flavor after drowning herself in it for the last two months.

Then came sunset. Though they were underground and there was little to indicate the time of day, the guards beginning to hasten their movements and preparations gave hint that night would soon fall. Petra was languishing, head thrown back against the wall as she closed her eyes and bit her lip, feeling the onset of a dizzy spell. Dorothea knew well what it meant, and placed the near empty bottle of blood to the side of the cell. 

“Dorothea,” breathed a pained Petra. “If I am to break free of the chains, if I am to be attacking you… please, you have my permission to fight back. I can heal with quickness, and—”

“—I know, Petra. It’s all right. It won’t come to that.” 

The werewolf merely nodded silently against the stone wall, gritting her teeth together as she forced herself to bear through a lightning bolt of pain that shot down her spine, resounding throughout the chamber with a sickening  _ crack! _ The joints in her hands began to break, crackling, forcing the young woman to cry out with a loud howl. 

“Please,” begged Petra, weak voice laced with suffering. “Do not be looking. Not now… please…”

In respect to her friend’s wishes, Dorothea did just that. She closed her eyes and backed herself against the opposite wall, vision sheathed within darkness. Petra’s screeches of pain began to fill the room as more horrible cracking noises emanated from the young woman’s body, her bones reshaping into that of a beast. The piercing screams caused Dorothea’s heart to stir with panic, breath slowing as she attempted to calm herself despite the commotion surrounding her on all sides. It was near impossible to drown out the sound of her friend’s terrified cries, and listening to them was borderlining on pure torture. 

So, Dorothea did what any songstress would do: she began to sing.

The song she chose was a simple one, but beautiful all the same. It was one of the first songs that she had learned upon joining the Mittelfrank Opera Company, one that she had memorized just as though it were written upon her very flesh. The harmonic lyrics overtook the sounds of her friend’s screams, and soon enough, they seemed to fade all together. Petra had stopped. 

Dorothea dared poke a single eye open and saw Petra staring at her, brown eyes glowing and wide, but with a mesmerized expression upon her face, as though her pain had been completely forgotten about. The songstress smiled softly and knowingly at the girl before forcing her eye shut once more, not wishing to disrespect Petra’s plea. 

Though only a brief moment after, the pain once again resumed and Petra’s cries continued on, they seemed to be far faded compared to before. Sensing that the song was doing its job, Dorothea continued onwards. She kept singing, going through an internal list of every single song she had performed upon the stage. For a moment, she allowed herself to drown within the familiar lyrics, picturing herself once again front and center before an adoring audience. She remembered the cheers that would fill the room, the flowers that would be thrown sky high into the air, the shouts from men allured by her voice. No longer was she in a dusty chamber, a murderous monster imprisoned for all the lives she had taken. She would keep singing until the screams ended.

And so, she did.

When Dorothea opened her eyes next, she was face to face with a beast twice the size of the woman who had been there previously. Familiar brown eyes bore into Dorothea’s soul as the creature snarled, revealing a row of teeth as sharp as knives. Aside from fuchsia fur covering its entire body that matched Petra’s hair and a mark underneath the beast’s left eye, it was hard to recognize the creature as Petra Macneary. The beastly Petra attempted to lunge forward at Dorothea, but grunted in pain when she realized she was trapped by the magical binds that held her firmly against the wall. Irritated, she began to thrash against the chains, throat vibrating with angered growls. 

“Petra,” whispered Dorothea, gazing into the beast’s eyes. There was not a hint of recognition within, no indication that Petra knew who the girl opposite her was. 

Without warning, Petra once again attempted to pounce upon her prey, furred hands struggling against the restraints holding her back. A horrifying shatter pierced through the air as she managed to break free of the restraints upon her wrists, and Dorothea jolted backwards. The wolf stood herself up and swiped a clawed hand forward towards the other creature in the room, growling and snarling and  _ howling _ in frustration. From behind the steel bars, a mage conjured a bramble of electricity within his hand before shooting it directly at the beastly princess. A ear-piercing yowl escaped from Petra’s throat as her body contorted with electricity, falling backwards onto the unforgiving stone.

Dorothea whipped her gaze behind her, staring at the mage with fury. “Don’t you dare do that again…!” she warned, eyes flashing a crimson red. “She can’t hurt me, you know.”

A low groan escaped Petra’s lips, weakened by the powerful bolt of electricity. The poor girl looked completely helpless in her restraints, fur frazzled by the lightning. Against her better judgement, the vampire stood from her position across the room and approached the werewolf slowly. She kneeled by the other woman’s side, eyes full of concern.

“Are you all right, Petra?” she asked gently, even though she knew it was pointless. “I know a bit of white magic. It’s not much, really, but—“

The werewolf immediately responded by swiping her claws directly at Dorothea’s face, but the vampire was far faster. She caught Petra’s wrist in her hand within a split second, earning an annoyed growl from deep within the other woman’s throat, fluffy ears flattening. Brown eyes met green ones as Dorothea’s other hand touched Petra’s cheek, rubbing the soft fur beneath the familiar magenta tattoo. “It’s all right, Petra,” she whispered gently. “I’m not going to hurt you, all right? I’m here to help.”

Following a deep breath, Dorothea started to sing once more. She watched closely as the beast’s eyes widened upon hearing the familiar song, her ears twitching. A look of confusion passed through her face while her head tilted curiously to the side, listening. The former songstress began with the same simple song, soft and melodic, watching closely as the werewolf calmed. Petra’s muscles relaxed and her growling ceased completely, the guards in the room completely forgotten about. All that mattered in those moments was the girl right in front of her and her beautiful voice, soothing her aching soul. 

When the song ended, Dorothea smiled from ear to ear, running her fingers through silky fur. 

“Petra…” she repeated. “Do you feel better now?”

The wolf did not respond, and merely looked at her, perplexed by the situation. It was as though the Petra Macneary that Dorothea knew so well was beginning to surface, but only just. A low growl once again picked up, and this time, Dorothea backed away slowly. 

But Petra did not attack. Instead, she merely stared at Dorothea, watching cautiously, curiously. The song had served its purpose, and now, the aggressive werewolf had calmed. For the remainder of the night, the Brigid princess merely sat there, snarling whenever Dorothea would get too close but never attacking. 

For the first full moon in years, the Imperial castle was silent.

When the night slipped away and faded into the dawn of the next morning, Petra’s form became engulfed in a bright light. Within mere seconds, it molded back down into the familiar girl that Dorothea knew and loved, unconscious and resting. It took only a split second for the other woman to run over to her side and throw her arms around the still chained young woman, pulling her into a tight embrace. Though the magically enhanced chains scorched Dorothea, she found that she cared little. 

“Petra… Petra… Petra!” she gushed, elated. “Oh Petra! My Petra!”

The princess’s eyes fluttered open, a low gasp passing through her lips when she realized what was happening. “Dorothea…?” she spoke softly, eyes glimmering with awe. 

“Oh Petra, you did so well!” Dorothea praised, nuzzling her nose up against the other woman’s cheek. 

Petra’s arms tentatively wrapped around the other woman’s back, though she was still disoriented and a bit puzzled by the situation at hand. When a werewolf returned to their human form, they retained no memories of what occurred the night before, and now was no exception. “Dorothea… I am not feeling any pain,” she remarked, bewildered. “Usually when I am turning back, I am covered in scars and pain. But… this time...”

“Miss Arnault managed to calm you with her voice,” an exhausted guard explained from the other side of the room. “We didn’t need to use any force on you this time.”

“Is… is that being the truth?” Petra questioned, gazing at her cellmate. 

“Yes,” Dorothea confirmed. “It was like a miracle! When I sang that song, you suddenly calmed down completely and stopped trying to attack me. Oh, Petra, I always knew it wasn’t impossible! You’re so incredibly strong…!”

A hot tear dripped down Petra’s cheek, rolling onto Dorothea’s dress. Elation and relief flooded the Brigid princess like a cool wave upon a scorching summer’s day, and she returned the hug with full force, practically squeezing the life out of the songstress, who spluttered and wheezed as she attempted to fill her lungs with air. Though a werewolf’s natural strength was less than a vampire’s, it was enough to take the wind out of the songstress. Petra was so overcome with emotion that she began to sob onto Dorothea’s shoulder, whispering muffled words that the opera singer could barely make out.

“Thank you… thank you… Dorothea…” she heaved. 

“It-...it’s nothing, sweetheart,” coughed Dorothea. “Always… happy to help you…!”

The two remained there for a long while before the guards interjected their tender moment to remove the hefty chains that yet still bound Petra to the wall, giving Dorothea a moment to finally retrieve her breath. Once the princess had been untangled from her restraints, the two were escorted out of the cold chamber and back up the winding staircase to their room, warm and welcoming. After the guards had unclasped the collar from Dorothea and freed Petra of the remaining chains, they left the two of them in peace.

Almost immediately, Dorothea collapsed upon the soft bed, coated in the familiar furs. She buried her nose within them and inhaled the familiar scent, so warm and comforting. She had hardly noticed how exhausted she was until the moment she was engulfed in tasseled sheets. Her cellmate quickly followed suit and laid herself down, similarly exhausted. 

“Again, Dorothea, you are having my thanks,” the tired werewolf spoke out. “This is the first time I am not having pain after the full moon… and it is all because of you.”

Dorothea giggled, cheeks blushing with flattery. “You’re welcome, Petra. I’ll make sure it never hurts ever again, all right? Maybe we’ll find a way to stop you from transforming all together. That way, you don’t have to suffer at all.”

“I would be liking that greatly. But, is it even being possible…?”

The songstress shrugged. “Who knows? But it’s certainly worth a try, don’t you think?”

To that, Petra nodded. She yawned lazily and scooted herself up next to the other woman so that their bodies were touching, her arms stretching out around Dorothea’s back. The vampiress's heart fluttered as Petra buried her nose into the crook of her neck, hot breath tickling her chin. Though it was often that the two would wake up cuddled together, neither of them had taken the initiative to actually do so before they fell asleep. A warm happiness spread throughout every corner of Dorothea’s body, and she couldn’t help but curve her lips into a firm smile as her arms pulled Petra ever closer, indulging in the incredible feeling. 

“So cute,” Dorothea whispered, nuzzling the top of the other woman’s head.  _ And beautiful,  _ she thought, though she dare not speak the words aloud. 

As the two of them fell asleep in each others arms, newfound feelings began to bloom within. 

* * *

“How interesting. It seems Dorothea succeeded.”

Edelgard’s voice echoed through her vast room, where she remained seated upon a large, red leather chair. A hand boredly stirred a glass of white wine, hanging over the armrest and dangerously close to spilling upon the expensive carpet beneath, but the emperor cared not. Across from her sat Byleth, eyes focused upon the drink with an ever blank expression. She nodded steadily at the other woman’s words. 

“It was quiet last night, much more so than any other full moon,” Byleth observed. “Though Petra still transformed, there was barely any howling afterwards. I’m surprised. 

A splash of wine dribbled over the edge of its glass, earning no reaction from either woman. “There’s still plenty we don’t know about lycanthropy,” Edelgard pointed out. “Because of its violent nature, it’s near impossible to study. Most simply recommend killing anyone that’s been inflicted by the werewolf’s curse, but…” Her lips quirked downwards. “For the princess of Brigid, that’s not an option… No… no matter what Petra’s status was, I couldn’t bear to…”

“I understand,” Byleth interrupted, knowing well how sensitive the stone cold emperor was on the inside. Beneath the harsh exterior was a caring young woman, wanting only the best for her friends. “But it’s not going to come to that. Not anymore.”

“I’m… relieved, to be honest,” sighed Edelgard. “When Dorothea requested that she spend the night with Petra, I wasn’t certain what to make of it. But Dorothea is a strong woman, so I knew she wouldn’t be in any danger. Speaking of which… how is her training?”

“She has potential,” Byleth answered immediately. “She’s growing quickly, and seems satisfied with the animal blood we’ve been giving her. I worry that she may fear using her powers, but that aside… she certainly is an interesting student.”

Edelgard nodded. “And Petra?”

“I’ve been told she’s been doing incredibly well. She’s a diligent student and a warrior at heart, excellent at the bow and sword. I hope one day that we can find a way to utilize her powers as a werewolf into her fighting. As you know already, controlling the powers of a werewolf is far more difficult than a vampire.”

“Indeed, which is why our enemies have given up attempting to utilize the blood of lycanthropes. They certainly don’t like it when they lose control over their pawns...”

Byleth gave Edelgard a knowing look, and the two of them needed not exchange any more words on the subject. 

“Anyways. I can tell you aren’t a fan of that wine Ferdinand bought you,” Byleth commented, eyeing the still neglected drink. “Would you care for something else?”

Edelgard smirked slightly. “Indeed. It’s quite tart. Ferdinand’s never had the best taste in alcohol. I suppose I  _ am  _ craving… something else.” 

Wordlessly, the instructor stood from her seat and strode across the room. She slipped next to Edelgard upon the chair and pried the forgotten glass from Edelgard’s hand, dumping it carelessly upon the floor. 

“Byleth!” the emperor chided. “That’s certainly going to leave a stain.”

Byleth shrugged. “I never cared much for that rug, anyway.” She placed her hand upon Edelgard’s chin and drew it towards her neck, so that the emperor’s lips were upon her soft skin.

“As long as you pay for it,” whispered Edelgard into the other woman’s neck. 

“Of course, El.”

Edelgard craned forward, nipping lightly at Byleth’s neck with dull fangs that barely scratched the surface of her pale skin, only drawing a light drop of blood that trickled down her neck like a lazy river. Light blue eyes turned a dark red as her tongue lapped curiously at the bead of sanguine goodness, though frustration vexed her features when she found herself unable to draw anymore. Sensing the other woman’s plight, Byleth conjured a thin needle made of her blood upon the tip of her finger, which she then used to slice a firm cut into her neck. Edelgard’s lips hungrily covered the scar as she sucked greedily upon it, drawing an unparalleled sweetness into her mouth. Her ministrations continued for a good minute before she pulled away, tongue darting out to lick all that she had missed.

“How irritating that my fangs aren’t sharp enough to draw your blood,” complained the young emperor. “I find myself hoping every day that they will grow, but alas, they have not. If only those who slither had bothered to change me enough to give me proper fangs.”

“I don’t mind helping you,” Byleth told her. “Besides, it’s better this way. With you only being half-vampire, you get all the benefits without any of the weaknesses.”

Indeed, the emperor Edelgard was a dhampir: part human, part vampire, and part something  _ else _ . Through meticulous and horrific experiments, the former human had been changed into something far greater, far stronger than any other vampire or human. She was immortal, unaging, unable to die even if someone were to drive a stake through her heart. For Edelgard, death was an absolute impossibility. However, such power came with a price. 

“I feel terrible for drinking from you so often,” sighed Edelgard. “But now, I just can’t drink from anyone else. Hubert offered me his blood, and when I tasted it, I…”

“I know,” Byleth once again interrupted. “I understand completely. Likewise, the only blood I can drink is yours.”

“How strange it is. Even though vampires are said to be horrific creatures, there’s still something oddly romantic about it all. How a vampire in love can only be sated by the blood of their lover, and how they’ll die without them… in a sense, it’s like those old stories about soulmates,” mused Edelgard. “I only wonder what will happen to me if you were to die. Would that be enough to kill me, or would I succumb to insanity?”

“I don’t particularly care to find out,” replied Byleth with a frown. “I suppose I’ll just have to live forever, then.”

Edelgard cracked a smile. “I’d like that. After we’ve finally put an end to this hidden war, I wouldn’t mind settling down with you. If you’d like.”

“Is that even a question? Of course, El, of course.”

* * *

As the moons went by, Dorothea’s presence within the chamber upon the full moon became an absolute necessity. Though she could not stop the painful transformation that left Petra screaming in agony every time, her songs were enough to stave off any aggression from the transformed werewolf. Dorothea began to familiarize Petra with the songs that she would sing, doing so daily before bed so that the princess would recognize the tunes even in the form of a beast. Instead of spending the nights howling, being struck by various forms of magic from guards who tried to keep her at bay, Petra would instead sit calmly in the corner of the cell, watching Dorothea carefully.

As time went on, Dorothea became more and more brave with her attempts. She would sometimes approach the transformed Petra and sit near her, sometimes stroking her fur or talking to her. Never did Petra show any sort of sign that she remembered who the woman was, but neither did she ever attempt to attack her. Of course, she would snarl and growl, but never pounce or bite. The full moons became less and less of a dreaded occurrence, and for that, Petra was incredibly grateful. 

The huntress had become much happier. No longer did nightmares plague her every sleep, and every day she awoke bright and ecstatic, with her arms twirled around Dorothea’s back and body pressed tightly to her. 

There was little that the books had told Dorothea about werewolves, but one thing that she learned was that a happy werewolf was incredibly,  _ extremely _ physically affectionate.

Dorothea would spend most of the day with Petra cuddled up to her, whether it be in bed or the couch. It didn’t matter  _ what _ Dorothea was doing, she would surely find Petra atop her, tail wagging, body melting against hers with a warm sigh. The songstress hardly minded such behavior, in fact, she welcomed it wholeheartedly every time. She had grown accustomed to the presence of the other woman, and lamented the lack of it whenever she was off training. Likewise, it seemed that Petra herself would grow incredibly lonely without her cellmate, and never failed to shower Dorothea in affection whenever she returned, tail wagging so hard that the songstress feared the werewolf may one day sprain it. 

All was well within the Imperial castle. Hubert had ordered that the exterior lock upon Dorothea and Petra’s cell be removed as neither of them posed a threat, so that the two of them could wander wherever they pleased so long as they remained outside of the public's eye. For a few moons, the vampire wondered if every obstacle in her life had simply evaporated. Perhaps she had finally reached the peak of her new life, no longer having to worry about her nature as a monster. 

But life was never that simple.

One languid evening, Dorothea found herself sprawled out upon the red couch, book in hand and an affectionate Petra laying atop her, resting her head upon the other woman’s chest. Her free hand lazily combed through locks of purple hair while she gazed over the script of an old opera, barely taking in the contents. Her mind was drifting elsewhere, towards the future and whatever it may have in store for her. The Mittelfrank Opera company was now a distant memory, a near impossibility, though Dorothea dared entertain the notion of returning once her duty to the Imperial army had ended. In truth, she missed being front and center upon the stage, performing tales of love and tragedy. She missed the friends she had made behind the stage, days spent rehearsing on end, laughing with all the other performers when a scene messed up comedically. 

But she did not miss the way that her fans looked at her. Hungry, predatory men gazing at her with looks of lust, wasting no opportunities to shove gifts in her face and offer their hands in marriage. To them, she was not Dorothea Arnault, but something beautiful to be admired, like a trophy upon the highest shelf. Back then, she had spent her days fretting over what would happen when her hair turned gray and her skin began to wrinkle, when her voice could sing no more. Surely, she would be forced out upon the alleyways of Enbarr once more, left to rot and starve. Such had driven her to seek out a suitable husband, one with plenty of money to provide for her for the rest of her days, to cherish her even when she was no longer beautiful. Despite all the men she had wasted her time on, none of them had ever stood out to her. She was forcing herself to consider each one, no matter how much revulsion she would feel. 

Now, she was a monster: ageless, immortal, never to lose her beauty. That was something that terrified her. But to the selfish nobles who only ever wanted her for her looks, it would make her far, far more desirable. Her heart lurched at the thought of all the men who would clamber over her, even more spurred on by her newfound vampirism. 

No. She certainly couldn’t go back.

“Dorothea?” interrupted Petra, who raised her head from the comfortable position upon Dorothea’s chest to look at her. “Something is bothering you.”

Petra was a rather observant young woman, as most hunters were. She could locate a deer based on the way the leaves on the forest floor were scattered and hear the chirping of a pheasant from yards away. As time went on, she had gotten adept at sensing whenever her friend was feeling uneasy by the smallest of signals, to the point where it had gotten pointless for Dorothea to hide her emotions. 

The vampire sighed softly, fiddling with a strand of purple hair. “It’s nothing much, sweetheart. I was just thinking about what I’d do when I’m done serving my sentence here, that’s all. Hubie never really gave me an end date.”

Petra’s eyebrows furrowed in thought. She shifted upwards upon Dorothea, so that she was sitting on her stomach. “You do not want to be returning to the opera?” she asked. 

“That’s the thing, Petra. I don’t, not really,” admitted the songstress with a downcast expression. “There’s really nothing left for me there. As much as I love singing and dancing, I don’t think I could ever return to that sort of life… the life of being chased after by hundreds of men, becoming an object to be desired… now that I’m finally away from it all, I realize how much I truly dislike it. I never really wanted the affections of any of those men, I just… I just wanted someone who would love me, even after I grew old. But all that’s pointless now that I’m… well… a vampire.”

Petra was always an intent listener, and now was no exception. She waited patiently until Dorothea was finished speaking to share her thoughts. “I have understanding. I would not be wanting to return to that either,” she agreed, pity in her eyes. 

“You always understand me, Petra,” Dorothea remarked. “It’s just that… if I don’t want to go back to the opera company, and goddess forbid I spend the rest of my life as some soldier in the army, I just… don’t know what to do, or where to go. The whole idea of marrying money and spending a human life by the side of someone is impossible now. I have to find somewhere to live, somewhere I could spend thousands and thousands of years comfortably.” Worry laced her tone as she continued onwards, feeling anxiety forming within the pit of her stomach. Perhaps it was far too soon to be worrying about such things when she still had years of her prison sentence ahead of her, but the young woman had always been one to plan several years ahead. “It’s not as though I don’t like it here with you, in fact, the times I get to spend alone with you are my absolute favorite. It’s just… well, I can’t really see myself spending my entire life here.”

“If that is the case, then will you be returning to Brigid with me?” Petra asked.

Dorothea’s eyes darted upwards, a soft gasp escaping her throat. “Petra… you mean…?”

“When I am being free of Fódlan, I am wishing for you to be seeing my homeland,” the werewolf continued with a fond smile. “I have grown to like you very much, and I cannot imagine life without you. You are precious to me.”

Dorothea’s heart thrummed warmly within her chest, her mouth gaped open ever so slightly. “Petra…” she whispered. “What a lovely thing to say, I… Yes. I’d love to, Petra. But… given how very sunny it is, I’m not sure if my skin will agree with me.”

“You could be asking Hubert to make you a sun charm,” the werewolf suggested. “He is able to be moving in the sunlight because he is wearing a magical charm. That way, you could be enjoying Brigid the same as a human. I could be showing you our beaches!” Petra was beginning to get rather excited by the idea, for her tail began to wag frantically, thumping against Dorothea’s sides. “Even if you cannot be eating the food of Brigid, you could try the blood of Brigid prey. I am certain you would be enjoying it!”

Dorothea could not help herself from giggling at the sight of how very enthusiastic her friend was, feeling laughter soothe her perturbed soul. “If that’s the case, then absolutely yes! Brigid sounds so wonderful. It would certainly be more exciting than spending the rest of my life in boring old Fódlan.” Despite being only twenty-two years of age, the vampire had already grown weary of Fódlan and the Empire, of the pompous nobles who held an iron grip upon the common folks. From the numerous stories that Petra had told, Brigid sounded like a far more relaxed nation, where everyone was treated equally as friends.

Petra’s eyes were now widened, her tail flickering back and forth at lightning fast speeds. “You are meaning it?!” she gasped.

“Of course I am! I’d love nothing more than to see Brigid with you, Petra. It sounds like a lovely idea.”

Without any further warning, Petra suddenly lunged forward and pounced upon Dorothea, arms snaking their way around the other woman’s back and pulling her into an incredibly tight hug. Petra nuzzled her nose into Dorothea’s cheek, heartbeat rapid against the vampire’s side. “You have my gratitude, Dorothea! I am so very happy!” she proclaimed loudly. “I was wanting to ask this of you for many weeks now, but I was not knowing what you would say. Oh, we will be having the best life together!” 

“Petra!” gasped Dorothea, feeling her entire body grow rather warm, especially her now very pink cheeks. Her own arms returned the favor and wrapped themselves around Petra’s waist, pulling her in for a mutual embrace. The werewolf was simply adorable, especially whenever she showed her affection so very physically. “You’ve been so happy recently. I certainly hope I’m the only person you cuddle like this.” She’d feel rather disappointed if this was the sort of treatment the woman gave to everyone. 

“Of course, my cuddles are only for you,” Petra affirmed. “My Dorothea!”

Dorothea cradled her closest friend to her body, a warm smile gracing her features. “Good. I’d rather not share my dearest Petra with anyone,” she replied. “And I’ll be sure to reserve all my cuddles for just you.”

Petra giggled happily and basked in the warmth of the other woman, tail wagging fervently. All the while, Dorothea’s hand was stroking through the length of Petra’s intricate ponytail, admiring how soft her hair was while debating the true nature of their relationship. The two of them had certainly grown close, but how close? At what point could these friendly cuddles and words be considered something  _ more _ ? Her heart thumped as she allowed her mind to run dangerously down the alleyway of fantasy, imagining herself as something more than just Petra’s closest friend. She gulped as she attempted to push away such ridiculous notions out of her head. She didn’t even know if Petra felt that way about other women, and to be honest, neither did she. There had been small moments in her life where she had pondered her attraction to other women, but now, she was confronted with the very real possibility that she was feeling something very close to love for Petra. 

An unsteady breath huffed from her throat. Dorothea’s eyes gazed over towards the woman at her side, nose still buried to her cheek. She admired how beautiful her sleek hair was, how gorgeous those eyes were, and  _ especially _ how tempting the soft skin on her neck was. The sound of the other woman’s heart beating became clear as day, like rapid waters on a treacherous waterfall. She could hear fresh blood pumping within her veins, and Dorothea’s tongue darted out to lick her suddenly dry lips. Her throat burned as she pondered what Petra’s blood would taste like, surely exquisite and far more delicious than the animal blood she had been feeding on for the last few moons. It had been so, so very long since she had gotten a proper taste of real human blood, and though Petra wasn’t exactly human, that made it all the more tempting. For a mere moment, she craned her face forward, mouth opening to show a peak of sharp, neglected fangs that were simply begging to buried within Petra’s neck. 

“Petra,” she husked. She was so very, very  _ thirsty. _

“Yes, Dorothea?” came Petra’s innocuous reply, completely unaware of where Dorothea’s now crimson eyes were focused. 

“I want—”

The vampire did not get a chance to finish her sentence, for the sound of the door prying open interrupted her. Petra retreated from her position on top of Dorothea and stood, staring at the new arrival.

“Am I interrupting something?” questioned Hubert, an amused smile painting his face. “I certainly hope not. It’s time for your training, Dorothea.”

“Ah, yes, of course! Sorry about that, Hubie, you aren’t interrupting anything. I’m ready whenever you are,” Dorothea quickly responded, prying herself from the comfort of the couch. She dusted off her red gown as she shook her brain free of the strange train of thought it had been running down. Her eyes had returned to a normal green color, leaving Petra without a hint of what had just happened.

“I’ll be outside. Don’t keep me waiting long. I have… business to tend to.”

With that, the door closed once again, the sinister vampire retreating and leaving the two girls all alone for a moment longer. Dorothea took a deep breath to compose herself, mentally chiding herself for daring to have such thoughts about poor Petra. Even though the blood that she had been served recently had become rather dull on her senses, until now she had never had a craving for anything else. But now that the thought entered her mind, it lingered there, festering. 

“I’ll be back soon, Petra,” Dorothea told the werewolf. “Don’t miss me too much, all right?”

“It is hard not to be missing you, but if you are saying so,” joked Petra, cracking a grin. “I will be training as well. I cannot wait to be seeing you again!”

“Likewise. See you soon, Petra!”

The vampire hastily retreated from the room, desperate to leave behind the tempting thought of Petra’s blood. As Hubert led the other woman towards their allocated training room, the only thing that was on Dorothea’s mind was how much she hated herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies, is it gay to tell another woman they're precious to you and to invite them to live with you for the rest of your eternal life,
> 
> So my plan was to get this done by Halloween, but I've been asked to work several extra hours this next week, so I don't think I will be able to update by then. There will be either one or two more chapters.
> 
> Let me know what you think so far. I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts... Big thanks to my pal Glace for beta reading as usual.


	4. Part Four: Hopelessly in Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is just shameless fluff
> 
> enjoy

Once again, Dorothea had found herself trapped within a nightmare.

What had been the most delightful days of her life following her transformation into a monster had quickly soured. Though she had been forewarned that the blood of animals would not sustain a vampire for long enough, she had not expected her body to grow accustomed to the taste so very quickly. Shortly after training on the very same day she had become overcome by a lust for Petra’s blood, she had scrambled back to their shared room to drown herself in bottles of animal blood, only to find that the substance bore absolutely no flavor. She had nearly spit its contents out in shock, but forced herself to swallow the sickeningly flavorless fluid in order to soothe the growing ache at the back of her throat. 

One, two, three, four bottles emptied later, and she found that her stubborn body refused to be satisfied. Her throat was still painfully dry like a hot desert, showing no signs of easing up even after such a large meal. In a panic, she forced herself to consume a fifth bottle, only to find herself sickened by how much she had consumed. She nearly hurled all of her dinner upon the floor, but was able to scurry to the bathroom just in time to prevent the carpet from staining. 

Mind dizzy, body weak, Dorothea had been left with only one thing on her mind:

Petra. 

Her beautiful, glorious  _ Petra _ .

It was impossible not to have her wonderful best friend on her mind. Petra was strong, gorgeous, and oh so very kind. The Brigid princess had staked her claim over Dorothea’s thoughts—what, with the way that she wagged her tail in delight whenever the vampire would return from training, the way that she sprawled herself out on top of her friend at any given opportunity, the way she snuggled her face into the other woman’s chest during moments of privacy. There were a thousand different things that Dorothea admired about Petra, and those were only a scant few. 

Oh, how her throat  _ burned _ with desire. 

What would Petra’s blood taste like? Would it be rich and thick, like the blood of the Adrestian noblemen that she had once feasted upon? Would it be sweet as candy, just like her enamoring personality? Or would it be a mixture of both? Such thoughts occupied Dorothea’s mind every passing second, and she found herself unable to tear away from such desires. She was no longer just craving blood: she was craving Petra herself.

“Dorothea?”

Byleth’s voice dragged her out of her bloodlust-filled stupor temporarily, causing Dorothea to recall the tendrils of blood that were dancing about upon her palm, conjured from a slice on her thumb. They had twisted and turned into no real shape, resembling an autumn tree whose leaves had been swept away by the coming winter air. It was  _ supposed _ to be a dagger, or at least that had been the objective. Dorothea’s brow furrowed in concentration as she attempted to reshape the vines of blood into a slick blade, watching as they hastily reformed into a thick line. Try as she might to form a sharpened edge with her own blood, her body once again did not seem to wish to cooperate with her. A sharp burn at the back of her throat and a headache that felt like a knife in her temples forced out a gasp, and soon enough, the tendrils had recoiled back into her skin.

Hubert looked unamused by the pitiful display, shaking his head with a sigh. “Miss Arnault. Previously, you had shown great promise with your ability to utilize blood magic. However, this display is simply… lackluster, in comparison,” he told her honestly. He was not the kind of main to decorate his words with frivolities. “Dare I even call it pathetic?”

There was no need to attempt to explain herself with a plethora of excuses. Dorothea looked at her shoes with frustration lacing her features, trying not to think of the pounding headache that threatened to consume her. “I… I’m sorry Hubert, but I’m really not feeling all that well. Maybe I’ve come down with something—”

“—Vampires don’t get sick,” the sinister servant interrupted her. “Not in the same way humans do, anyways.”

Dorothea’s jaw clenched uncomfortably and she was left without explanation. Not even she understood the sudden condition that had overcome her, leaving her weak and dizzy. As she felt two sets of eyes staring deep into her, her throat began to prickle with pain like needles being jabbed into her, a reminder of how very thirsty she was. It had been about a week since the beginning of her dilemma, and she had not had a proper meal since. It showed in the way her skin paled beyond normal, the way she struggled to utilize all the powers she had mastered over the moons. The slice upon her thumb did not immediately heal as it usually did, instead lingering there, dripping uncontrolled beads of blood that splattered to the stone floor.

“I see…” Byleth began, gaze transfixed upon the still open wound. “You’re in love.”

The way that Byleth spoke so casually, so confidently took Dorothea aback. Green eyes widened as she took a step back, heart racing in her chest. “Excuse me, instructor?” she spluttered. 

“It’s quite plain to see,” the instructor answered back. “I can tell you haven’t been drinking the blood that’s been sent to your room, or perhaps the blood isn’t sustaining you. Is it flavorless, perhaps? When you drink it, does your throat remain dry?”

“Well, yes to all of that, but I don’t see how that has anything to do with love…” Dorothea replied, uncertain.

Byleth exchanged glances with Hubert, who seemed rather disinterest in the subject. Romance was never really something that intrigued the servant, who seemed to rather spend his time focusing on his work than on relationships. It fell on the woman to explain her line of reasoning. “When a vampire falls in love, they begin to crave the blood of one that they love. Soon enough, it becomes something of an addiction… no longer will anyone else’s blood sustain them. They will begin to lose a taste for other kinds of blood, and begin to suffer physically if they are unable to drink the blood of their lover. It's both a romantic condition and a tragic one. There are many stories of vampires whose love went unrequited withering away into mere ash, or vampires whose lovers passed away,” she elaborated. “That’s what you’re experiencing, isn’t it?”

As Dorothea listened to her instructor’s words, her heart began to sink in her chest while realization overcame her, shaking her to her core. She had been aware for a handful of moons of her admiration for Petra, though the exact nature of her feelings had been a mystery to her. The girl was a beacon upon a dark night, the light that had led Dorothea out of her misery. She was always positive, always radiant, always smiling, always strong, and always beautiful. To hear Byleth so simply say that it was  _ love _ made her aching heart throb.

Of course it was love. How could it not be? She had become enamored by the other woman in absolutely every way. There was simply no denying it now.

“Oh, Instructor Byleth, what do I do?” she asked, anguish overtaking her tone. “I’ve been on plenty of dates with men before, but I’ve never,  _ ever _ felt this deeply about someone, and certainly not as a vampire!” Usually, the former opera singer would consider herself an expert in the matter of romance, but for once, she was at an absolute loss. “I just… I just…”

“It’s simple. Just drink her blood,” Hubert answered, finally deciding to speak up. “It matters not what Petra thinks of you in return. As long as you can sustain yourself off of her, it’s quite simple. 

Dorothea decided not to question Hubert on how exactly he knew who the object of her affections was, given that there really were few options. “It’s not that easy, Hubie. Maybe someone like you wouldn’t understand, but the last thing I want to do is hurt her.”

Memories of her brief time in the opera as a vampire remained fresh in her mind. She could recall the feeling of her victims squirming beneath her, attempting to kick her off, screaming out profanities as they lay unable to break free of her vampiric strength. She could still remember how the voices that cursed her so would grind to weak halt when they grew dizzy from lack of blood, and then vanish all together. And how she could forget the feeling of a bloodless body, weak and pale, falling from her arms to the hardened ground as she finished her meal? In those moments, she had been unable to control her new monstrous side, unable to stop herself from gouging down on every last drop of delicious blood that she could suck out of those helpless humans. She had only managed to remain tame through the less than appealing animal blood she had been feeding on for the last moons, sustaining her just enough but never leaving her with an intense need for more. How could she help herself when she was finally granted the opportunity to drink the sweet nectar of Petra, the girl she had been helplessly in love with for who knew how long now? Would she succumb to her innermost desires once more? She felt sick at the idea, unable to stop herself from imagining Petra, cold and dead beneath her, drained of all of her life force.

“I’m sure you won’t,” Byleth responded, not showing the least bit of concern. Though emotion was rare upon the former mercenary’s face, there was the faintest hints of a sympathetic smile. “I know what it’s like, after all.” The instructor then sought Hubert’s own reply, though found nothing but cold indifference in response. It seemed that the other vampire was doing his best not to meet his colleague’s gaze, remaining distant in the conversation. Such was enough to tell Dorothea that the man was hiding something warm underneath his cold exterior, perhaps a love for someone else. “You love Petra. The last thing you’d do is hurt her.”

“I…”

Dorothea could not think of a way to protest, and instead opted to remain silent. Perhaps all that was true, but the question remained: would Petra even allow her to drink her blood? Though the woman was strong and kind, there was no way to tell if she would accept something so very beastly from her friend. She was the princess of Brigid after all, soon to ascend to the throne, and was way out of the league of some stray vampire. Even though Petra had invited her to stay with her in Brigid, what was to happen if their chosen paths were to one day not align? And if they did, would the people of Brigid ever accept some commoner from Fódlan as their queen?

“The next time you show up for training, I certainly hope it will be when you have drank,” Hubert told the woman, his words almost sounding as though they were a threat. “Now then. It is pointless to continue tonight, with you in such a pitiful state. Dismissed.”

Dorothea had never hurried from training so quickly.

* * *

Drinking Petra’s blood sounded so very simple on paper, but it was certainly not so easy. At least not towards Dorothea, who, despite having heard Byleth’s reassurance, still feared for the worst. Love was complex with numerous twists and tangles, like a bracken of thorns that could easily puncture flesh should one not be careful. She feared what was to become of her, what was to become of their relationship, what was to come of the future now that she had found herself deeply in love with the princess of Brigid. 

And thus, in that mixture of fear, she decided the best thing to do was to seal herself away.

It hadn’t been too hard to do. Petra had been absent as of recently, spending long days outside of their room now that she had the freedom to do so. At the end of the day, she would return with scratches and bruises, indicating that she was utilizing most of her time indulging herself in lengthy training sessions. All Dorothea had to do was leave during the night and wander the hallways of the castle aimlessly, trying not to think about the other woman who had plagued her thoughts for oh so long. 

Did Petra think anything of her absence? It was hard not to wonder. Sure, they exchanged casual conversation every now and then, but nothing much else. As much as Dorothea wanted the other woman to cuddle her so brazenly like before, she could not allow for it, lest she become a slave to her bloodlust.

Oh, there she was, thinking about Petra again. How helpless she was, like a hormonal teenager experiencing their first ever crush. The princess even had the audacity to plague her dreams, which soon evolved into terrifying nightmares featuring copious amounts of blood and Petra’s frigid corpse underneath Dorothea’s body, silent after shrieking cries and pleas for the opera singer to spare her. No longer did she dare to sleep in the same bed as the object of her affections, instead opting to hide within the dust-covered coffin that had long ago been forgotten about, only allowing slumber to claim her in broad daylight. Just when she thought she had finished her transformation into a vampire, she was becoming more and more like one with each passing day. 

One about a week after her training session, she steeled herself and peered into the mirror, only to find a monster staring back. Her green eyes had shifted into a permanent blood red, and her fangs had elongated. Her other teeth, previously indistinguishable from that of a human, were gaining sharp points like creatures of the deep sea that she had only ever heard of in dusty books and from Petra’s enthusiastic descriptions. Her heart lurched in disgust, hating what she had become. 

If only she could die.

* * *

Dorothea had only really been delaying the inevitable. Given the long absence between any sort of contact between her Petra, it was only natural that the other woman would grow curious. Just a day after the vampiress had seen herself in the mirror, the werewolf had decided to come home early from her training.

“Dorothea! I am back!” she cheered out into the room. “I decided to be leaving early today!”

From within the murky coffin, Dorothea’s heart nearly stopped. She had already been wide awake, for fears of nightmares had chased off any thoughts of sleep. The vampire had been lucky to avoid any sort of serious conversation over her condition for a handful of days, but now that her current state had worsened, it had only been a matter of time.

“Dorothea…?”

The songstress tried her damnedest to remain still within the coffin, to silence her breathing so that no sign was given of her presence. But Petra was a huntress at heart, and a werewolf with heightened senses. Her trained ears could pick up a footstep from a few meters away, or even a needle dropping to the ground. After a few seconds of deafening silence, the werewolf approached the coffin with hesitant steps. She laid her ear atop the stone door, listening for any sign of life within, and quickly picked up upon the light breaths. 

“Dorothea? You are… in here?” Petra asked, voice laced with worry. “Are you all right?”

“Petra…” Dorothea’s voice sounded horribly weak, and the songstress herself was surprised at how pitiful she sounded.  _ Please, don’t open the coffin. I don’t want you to see this. I don’t want you to see me as a monster! _

But Petra was not a mindreader. Her weight shifted off of the coffin, and soon enough, she was lifting the heavy door open without any effort. Their eyes met, and immediately, the princess’s face was overcome with shock.

“Dorothea!” she gasped. “What has happened to you!?”

The sight that lay before the woman was certainly one for sore eyes. Dorothea was sickly pale, far more so than usual, with her eyes a disgustingly bright red. Her hair had not been tended to in quite some time, and was tangled and sprawled out in every direction upon the red plush interior of her coffin. 

As soon as their eyes met, Dorothea’s throat constricted with a searing pain. She could not help but gasp as the all too familiar dryness claimed hold of her, begging to be nourished with Petra’s fresh blood. Suddenly, all the feelings she had sought to contain were crashing over her again like an unrelenting storm, sending a bolt of lightning down her spine and forcing her to shudder. It was taking all her strength not to lunge there and then for Petra’s throat, which looked oh so very inviting. 

“Petra, I… I’m so sorry, I…”

“Is this having to do with all the bottles of blood?” Petra asked in a rush of concern, eyes threatening to brim over with tears. “I have been noticing that you have not been drinking. I have been wanting to talk to you about this for some time, but it is as though you have been running from me…! Why? Why have you been hiding, Dorothea?”

In this situation, what could Dorothea do but tell the truth? Seeing Petra’s nearly in tears with a crestfallen expression souring her features was enough to break her heart. “I’m sorry, Petra. All this time, I’ve been… well. Hiding, I suppose. Hiding from myself, from what I’ve become. Recently, the blood they’ve been giving to me hasn’t done anything for me. I keep trying to drink it, but there’s no taste. I… I don’t want to hurt anyone, not ever, not again, so… I guess I’ve been trying to push it all away, hoping that maybe I’ll just wither instead. I’d rather that than anything come to harm you…”

For a moment, Petra merely processed her words, but then, she was overcome with a look of anger. “You are being a fool, Dorothea!” she shouted. “If you were to wither, then I would be having such sadness that I would not know what to do with myself! That would hurt me more than anything else! Do you have understanding for what I am trying to say? To look at you like this… gives me such great agony!”

“Petra,” Dorothea whispered. How very right the werewolf was. She was truly being a fool, attempting to hide from her problems rather than confront them head on. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to show you this side of me. I know I don’t look much like one most of the times, but I really am a monster. I’ve hurt people, and —”

“—I am not caring about any of that,” Petra intercepted firmly, a growing gleam of ferocity deep within her eyes. “When I was transforming into a beast, you were there by my side. You are never trying to hide from me, even when everyone else was. Even though I am also being a monster, you are not running. So why would I be running from you? You have made my life a thousand times better. I could never be thinking of you as a monster… I can only be thinking of you as my Dorothea.” 

Before Dorothea could even respond, Petra began to undo the various necklaces that decorated her, allowing them to clatter to the floor, leaving her neck completely bare. She drifted a hand towards the vampire and lovingly cupped a cheek, while the other hand beckoned her forward. “I cannot be allowing this to continue. You will be drinking my blood now,” she ordered. 

Shock reflected within Dorothea’s eyes, her mouth gaping open to reveal the tips of sharpened fangs. She hadn’t been expecting Petra to simply offer herself up so very easily, but then again, it was so very  _ Petra _ of her to do such a thing. The wellbeing of her friends always came before anything else, even when it came to something as dire as this. Now that she had been given permission, Dorothea could not help herself from eyeing the skin upon Petra’s neck, listening to the subtle sound of blood rushing within. Her tongue darted out to lick her very dry lips, and soon enough, she was transfixed upon her like a vulture to a corpse. She pulled herself upright in her coffin, fingers mirroring Petra’s touch, grazing the soft skin upon the other woman’s cheek. 

“Come now,” whispered Petra. “This coffin is no place to be doing… this. Let us be going to our bed, my beloved.”

Dorothea needed no further encouragement. Petra’s welcoming arms pulled her from the depths of the cold coffin, cradling her in a tangle of warmth. With the lightest of tugs, she led Dorothea towards their fur-covered bed, neglected from so many nights free from cuddles. Soon enough, the two women were toppling over each other, Dorothea’s hands pushing Petra’s shoulder down onto the soft sheets as the other woman giggled, admiration shining within her gaze. Petra played with a loose lock of brown, unkempt hair that hung over her, a glistening smile gracing her lips. Dorothea tentatively leaned in, their bodies pressing together, her nose burying itself to Petra’s neck. The rushing blood became all too clear for Dorothea’s vampiric senses, and an intense desire overcame her. Whether it was for blood or the other woman, she knew not. The songstress’s tongue danced along the crook of Petra’s neck, tasting the salty skin that lay there, feeling its every curve. An appreciative groan sounded out from the werewolf, whose tail began to flop in excitement for what was to come. Though Dorothea sought the blood that lay within, she wished to tease her friend more. She nipped at the soft flesh, earning yet another adorable squeal from the princess. 

“Please, Dorothea,” whined Petra, hand going up to grab a fist full of brown hair. “You are teasing me.”

“I can’t help it when you’re so cute,” murmured the vampire into the other woman’s skin. “You’re so adorable that I want to just eat you up. All of you.”

“I would be liking that greatly,” breathed Petra. 

Finally, the vampire gave into the princess’s pleas. The tips of her fangs grazed at her sensitive skin, which caused Petra to shudder underneath. With the sound of blood growing ever stronger, Dorothea could no longer hold herself back. The songstress’s mouth opened wide before sinking her eager fangs deep within Petra’s neck. 

The moment her mouth closed in around Petra, she was greeted with a flavor so powerful that her eyes shot wide open. A flood of delicious blood trickled into her dry mouth, soothing the aching pain within in a split second. Hungrily she sucked at her friend’s neck, taking every moment to indulge herself in the sweet nectar that overcame her senses.

Petra tasted like chocolate, deep and rich. 

Petra tasted like fruit, passionate and flavorful.

Petra tasted like candy, delightful and sweet.

Petra tasted like wine, refined and tangy.

Petra tasted like  _ love. _

It was nothing like the diluted animal blood that she had been fed, lacking passion and feeling. With Petra, it was as though she was drinking a cocktail of different flavors, all fueled by a different part of her. The nourishing substance was enough to vanquish any feeling of anxiety within, enough to drown her in love. She was very aware of Petra’s arms interlaced around her waist, and of her heavy breathing. The woman was not crying, not shouting out in pain, but rather  _ enjoying _ the intimate connection. This was a ritual that only the two of them could share, for Dorothea’s heart desired no one but Petra. 

Despite the tempting flavor, so delicious that the woman could drink forever, Dorothea did not lose sight of herself. Once she had her fill, she easily pulled away, dislodging her fangs from the other woman’s neck. It was though the primal monster within that so wished to drink every last drop had been tamed by the emotion of pure love, for no matter how deeply she reveled within the taste of Petra’s blood, the yearning to be with her darling for all of eternity was stronger than her bloodlust. Eyes that had faded back to green lingered over the sight of her roommate, smiling underneath with a warm gaze.

“See? You were not hurting me,” she giggled. “Was I tasting good?”

“Oh yes,” exhaled Dorothea. 

The songstress allowed herself to marvel at the woman beneath her, so very pleased and beaming. A tender expression reflected back at Dorothea, eyes drinking in the other woman’s form. The two of them simply stared at each other for a long while, breathless, entranced as though hypnotized. Lightly, Dorothea’s fingers came to graze the wound left behind by her fangs, having not yet been healed. How strange, she thought to herself. Usually, Petra herself was quick to mend her wounds.

“It’s not healing,” Dorothea observed.

“I am not minding. It is a mark of you!” Petra insisted. “It is just like the other marks on my body. They are prayers to the Brigid spirits, for good hunts and health. This mark is a prayer for my Dorothea.”

The songstress felt her heart thrum melodically within her chest, overcome by longing for the other woman. How silly of her to ever think that her feelings towards the princess were only ever friendship. She was madly, irrevocably in love with Petra, and now, she was fighting to stop herself from pressing her lips to hers.

She thought of a million different reasons why she shouldn’t kiss Petra. Because her mouth still tasted like blood, because she wasn’t sure if Petra felt the same, because she wasn’t sure if she was ready for a change like that in her relationship, because it wasn’t the right time. These thoughts kept her at bay while her heart raced like a horse galloping upon a battlefield, burning with want for the strong huntress. 

Then, using her werewolf strength, Petra toppled Dorothea down to her side, surprising the vampire. Soon enough, the songstress found herself underneath the princess, who began to bury her nose in the crook of Dorothea’s neck like she always did whenever they cuddled. This time, however, Dorothea’s breath hitched as she felt Petra’s tongue begin to tease her skin, electric sparks flaring through her body as the once again struggled to tame her emotions. She nearly cried out as Petra’s pointed teeth nipped at her neck, lips connecting with the soft skin that lay there. The Brigid royal’s tongue caressed Dorothea softly as she sucked hungrily, her grip upon the songstress’s dress growing stronger. Dorothea could not help the soft noises that escaped from her throat, overcome by the strange sensation.

When Petra pulled away, she admired her work, gazing at the blemish that remained, covering the faint scar from the woman’s transformation. 

“Now, we are both having marks,” she stated proudly. “So that everyone is knowing that we belong to each other.”

That sentence was enough to force Dorothea to question  _ everything _ about what the other woman was feeling for her. Such may as well have been a confession of love! But she could not allow herself to get over excited, to misunderstand the nature of their relationship. So she opted to simply nod and run her fingers appreciatively through Petra’s long ponytail, enjoying how soft it was. “Good I don’t want anyone else touching my darling Petra,” she flirted, testing the waters.

The fluster that grew upon Petra’s cheeks did not escape Dorothea’s notice. Before she could reply, however, her jaw began to gape open in a massive yawn. Though it was only midday, a session of vigorous training was enough to tire even a strong werewolf up. She rolled off of Dorothea and instead cuddled up to her side, arms stretching around the opera singer’s bare back. Dorothea reciprocated the motion and leaned in close, allowing the sensation of being so close to her roommate after so long of avoiding her to overtake her. 

“Goodnight, my beloved,” whispered Dorothea.

“Goodnight, my Dorothea…”

With that, the two of them entered a deep, peaceful slumber, full of dreams about the future.

* * *

The effect Petra’s blood had on Dorothea was almost immediate.

Upon waking up the next morning, her skin had returned to a healthier color, and teeth had molded back to their normal appearance. It was as though Petra’s blood was the world’s most potent medicine, ambrosia capable of bringing her back from the brink of death. Never before had the vampire felt so very invigorated, as though all the obstacles that stood before her had crumbled to mere rubble. A newfound vitality was swirling around within her, stirring her onwards, igniting a flame deep within her soul.

She didn’t just feel more powerful—she  _ was _ more powerful.

Suddenly, blood magic was near trivial for her. Shaping her blood into various small weapons became as simple as a mere thought. She could easily form a dagger from a prick upon her finger or even a moderately sized blade, though she was still a mile or so away from being able to manipulate enough blood at once to create a whole sword. Drinking unsatisfactory blood of mere animals had been holding back her potential all this time, and with Petra’s blood fueling her, she was capable of so much more. 

Byleth and Hubert began to instruct her in more advanced techniques that had previously been impossible for her. They taught her how to vanish into the darkness and how to slip through walls, giving her plenty of opportunities to sneak around undetected. They even began to teach her how to change into a bat, a power that Dorothea found most amusing. Being in the unnatural shape of an animal took getting used to, but getting to fly through hallways made it all worthwhile. She could not hold her form for long, since it was rather exhausting, but it was certainly another way to amuse herself. 

Besides, Petra found it absolutely adorable.

“You are being so small and cute!” she had exclaimed, admiring the fluffy bat Dorothea within the palms of her hands. “I was not thinking it was possible for Dorothea to be more adorable!”

“Does that mean you like me better this way?” Dorothea had teased. 

“No! I am not liking you better in any shape. I am liking whatever form you are taking!”

Though Petra had spent a good while cooing over how positively adorable Dorothea was, all the while, Dorothea had been admiring Petra. It felt as though drinking her blood had only strengthened her connection towards the other woman, bonding them in an intimate connection impossible for mere humans. 

Dorothea had been surprised to find how very satiating Petra’s blood was. Just the once was enough to fuel her for a good week before her throat started to tinge again, requesting no one else’s blood but Petra’s. The princess was always incredibly eager whenever the songstress asked to suck her blood, luring her to their bed where they would tumble on top of each other, limbs intertwined. It seemed as though Petra did not find the experience painful in the slightest; rather, she found it deeply pleasurable. 

It was a feeling that Dorothea could never get used to. Drowning in the taste of her lover while her hair was stroked gently and lovingly, listening to the soft noises that would slip free from Petra’s lips. It was a sensual, tantalizing experience, one that was followed by plenty of snuggles.

One night, after a satisfactory fill of Petra’s blood, the two women were lounging upon their shared bed. The Brigid princess had snuggled her face up against Dorothea’s chest, practically purring in delight as the songstress’s fingers weaved through loose strand of purple hair, free from their braids. As Dorothea reveled in the warmth of her best friend, she sighed lightly. Her free hand lightly traced over the fang marks upon the other woman’s neck, still fresh from feeding. Proof that they belonged to each other, or so Petra had said. Likewise, the blotch upon her own neck had yet to heal, an oddity considering how fast her skin would regenerate otherwise, leaving no trace of a scar. Perhaps it had something to do with Petra’s werewolf biology.

Or perhaps she simply didn’t want it to heal.

Despite all the affectionate nicknames, all the snuggling, all the nights spent admiring each other, the two were nothing more than close friends. ...Very close friends, at that, but not lovers. Though Dorothea certainly thought of the other woman as something much more, Petra had given no direct verbal indication that she returned such sentiments. It was hard to tell if her physical affection was simply due to her being a werewolf or if she was feeling something stronger than friendship towards her companion, and Dorothea feared asking. What they had between them was special, and to lose it… well, she couldn’t bear the thought.

“Petra,” Dorothea spoke out, breaking the silence. “I’m not… I’m not hurting you, right?”

Petra looked up from Dorothea’s chest and met her eyes. “No. You are not hurting me,” she confirmed. “When you are drinking my blood, I am not feeling any pain.”

“What exactly do you feel, then?” inquired the curious songstress.

It took a moment for Petra to respond. “When you are feeding on me, I am feeling great joy! It is feeling as though you are tickling me, but there is no pain. It is feeling like… Erm, it is hard to explain right,” she struggled. “But there is no greater joy than having you feed on my blood! I am not wanting anyone else to experience the feeling of Dorothea drinking their blood.” 

How very romantic, Dorothea’s treacherous mind thought. “You’re not worried or anything? That I might accidentally drink too much?”

Petra shook her head instantaneously. “I am not having that worry, no. I know that you will not be hurting me,” she replied in full confidence. “When you first came with me on the full moon, you were not having the fear of being hurt either. Even though I was giving you warnings, you were telling me that you knew I would not be hurting you. It is the same thought for me. Even though you are a vampire and have the capability of hurting, I know that you will not be.” Her eyes glimmered with admiration for the other woman, face decorated with an adoring smile. “You are the most precious thing in the world to me… you have helped me more than I can be saying.”

Oh goddess, Dorothea thought, did Petra know what she was doing to her poor heart? “Oh you are just too kind, my sweetest!” praised the vampire. The hand that had been playing with the other woman’s hair slipped behind her mane, finger tracing the outline of the tattoo upon the base of her neck. By now, she had memorized every single stroke of magenta on Petra’s body, every single dot. “You’re so incredibly  _ perfect _ , did you know that?” 

The blush that crept onto Petra’s face was impossible to ignore. “Please do not be saying such things! You are making me blush,” she protested.

“Then I just have to say it even more, don’t I?” teased the vampire, a merciless grin spreading from ear to ear. “You’re so adorable when you blush like that. How could anyone help themselves?”

In response, Petra’s cheeks flared an even deeper red. “You are always teasing me!” she complained. “Please be giving me a chance to be teasing you as well!”

“Oh, Petra. You’re always teasing me more than you could imagine,” sighed Dorothea, mind swirling with daring fantasies. With the way that the girl was always cuddling her, always calling her pet names usually reserved for lovers… well, just about everything Petra did was a tease. “But no matter. I’m so glad that I have you. Everything’s been so hard for me, you know. Changing into a strange creature, having to be imprisoned within this castle… I don’t know how I could do it all without you. So… thanks again for letting me drink your blood, Petra. I do hope you won’t get tired of it. Now that I’ve tasted your blood I… well, I don’t think I could ever go back to anything else. Not animal blood, not the commoners, not the noblemen… Your blood is the only blood for me.”

“I can never be tiring of you, Dorothea,” Petra breathed in response. “You are the light of my life. Each day, I am loving you more and more. If you are wanting to drink from me, I will always be allowing it, even if you are needing it for the rest of eternity.” The princess leaned in close, pressing their noses together and tickling Dorothea’s lips with her hot breath, sending shivers down the opera singer’s spine. “I would be doing anything for you, my love. You are my soulmate, after all!”

Dorothea gasped out loud, green eyes staring at the other woman in shock. All doubts about what the other woman was feeling for her faded in the blink of an eye, melting like ice within the sun’s rays. There was clear romantic intent behind the princess’s words, impossible to ignore. “Petra… you… you really mean that?” she asked breathlessly. If there were any misunderstandings, she needed to iron them out  _ now _ before she dare allow herself to get her hopes up. 

“Of course!” she insisted. “I would never lie to you about this. We are being lovers, after all!”

Oh yes, of course. How silly of Dorothea. They  _ were _ lovers, after all.

Wait… what?

“Wait just a minute, Petra. We’re… lovers?” she asked, bewildered. “I mean, not that I’m objecting to that, not at all, just… since when?”

The Brigid princess blinked at the woman beneath her, confusion evident in her eyes, though her smile did not fade. “For a few weeks. Were you not knowing?”

“No, I… I had no idea,” confessed Dorothea. With this new revelation, she was forced to look back upon the last few weeks filled with intimate moments in a brand new light. 

“But you were agreeing to go with Brigid with me,” Petra pointed out, looking thoroughly perplexed.

“Oh, I just thought you meant, well, as a friend,” the vampire attempted to explain frantically, the heat on her cheeks growing.

“I would not be asking just anyone to be coming to my homeland with me,” the werewolf told her seriously. “I was not asking for you to be coming to Brigid with me as a friend, but as my soulmate.” A sudden frown overtook her expression. “Are you… not wanting to be my lover?”

“No! I mean, yes, I mean… Oh Petra. I am  _ such _ a fool!” Embarrassment overtook the vampire as she frantically stumbled over her words, uncharacteristically uncomposed. “I just… I really had no idea. All this time, you’ve been trying to share your love with me, and I was just so foolish.” 

“You do not have to be apologizing… instead, I am thinking that I am the one who has to be apologizing,” Petra replied with a soft sigh. “Even though I have been living in Fódlan for many years, I still have difficulty with your language. I was not being clear enough when I was asking you.”

Seeing Petra so very distraught was heartbreaking for Dorothea, who felt the urgent need to dispel any misunderstandings. “No, it’s really not your fault,” she reiterated, feeling frustrated with herself for being so foolish. Really, looking back on it, how could she have ever thought those nights spent tangled in each other’s embrace were simply platonic? “But, if you’re worried… maybe you could ask me again?”

The suggestion caused Petra’s eyes to light up with a newfound fire, and she nodded enthusiastically. Her usual confidence restored, the princess took a deep breath before asking once more, this time with far more clarity:

“Dorothea… When we are both being free, I am wanting you to be coming to Brigid with me… as my soulmate. I am loving you more than anything else in the entire world, and I would love to be sharing my eternal life with you,” she confessed, eyes glimmering over with pure love as she stared at the vampire beneath her, sprawled out upon their shared bed. Her fluffy tail was flickering back and forth, trembling in excitement, or perhaps from nervousness. “Do you… feel the same…?”

As Dorothea looked deeply into her lover’s eyes, her heart thumped madly within her chest. She had listened to plenty of confessions over the years, mostly from rich noblemen who were hoping to spend the night with her. Those loveless words had been empty, motivated purely by selfishness and lust. But this one… this one was different. The way Petra looked at her with such tenderness, such earnest made Dorothea want to melt into the sheets beneath with sheer bliss. There was no doubt in the vampire’s mind that Petra meant every single word she spoke.

“Yes. Oh yes I do, Petra,” came Dorothea’s own proclamation. “I’ve been in love with you for so long now… moons, actually. I love you madly, and I’d love nothing more than to spend all of my life with you!” The words tumbled out of her mouth so very naturally, having been etched into her heart for so long. Just how many times had she fantasized about this very moment? Now it was unfolding right in front of her very eyes like something out of a storybook. “As long as you’re alright with me, of all people. I don’t really have any connections, and I’m just some common orphan. I don’t exactly know what kind of a queen I’ll make, but if it’s by your side, I’m sure I can manage.”

“You will be making a wonderful queen,” a confident Petra replied, not the slightest of doubts in her tone. “As the future queen of Brigid, I am able to be choosing whoever I wish to be marrying. You are already knowing about the legends of soulmates in Brigid. In Brigid, the spirits are guiding us towards our soulmates, no matter who they are being. If I am telling everyone that you are being my soulmate, they will have understanding. There have been many different kinds of marriages to the kings and queens of Brigid.”

Upon hearing this new information, Dorothea visibly relaxed and let out a large sigh of relief, feeling as though future anxieties she had not yet realized had already dissipated. “Well, even if they object, I don’t think there’s anything they could do to keep me away from you. I’ve gotten quite good at using my powers, you know!” she boasted. “Any attempts to drag me from you would be met with quite the resistance!”

Petra laughed softly at her lover’s joke. Her hands sought out the woman beneath her, lacing around her upper back and digging her sharp nails into the bare skin she found there, causing Dorothea to yelp. A look of concern passed through her eyes, but quickly vanished when the songstress gave her cheek a reassuring stroke. The werewolf bumped her forehead lightly against Dorothea’s own, once again allowing their noses to nuzzle together. For a moment, they did nothing but bask in each other’s presence, losing themselves in the other’s gaze. 

When the silence finally broke, it was Petra who began to speak. “You know, Dorothea. In Brigid, the spirits are always guiding us towards our chosen destiny. Because of this, I was wondering… why did the spirits choose to be making me a werewolf? For many years, I have been hating this decision… and sometimes, I was wondering if it was a mistake: that maybe it was not the will of the spirits, but a curse of Fódlan. But now I have gained understanding.” The werewolf paused to redirect her body, pressing her nose to Dorothea’s cheek and resting her soft lips upon the flustered skin that lay there. Nervously, tentatively, she lay a gentle kiss there, testing the new sensation. She pulled back just a mere moment later, cheeks heated with embarrassment. “I was changed so that I could be meeting you… so that we could be loving each other for all of eternity.”

For so long, Dorothea had considered her vampirism nothing but a horrid curse. It had brought about a long trail of death and suffering, leading to her being torn from the familiar life of an opera star into a brand new, terrifying world. Only on rare occasions had she allowed herself to ponder the all the good that it had brought her. But now, for the first time, perhaps she could finally consider her horrifying curse a blessing.

“An eternal life doesn’t sound too bad when you’re in it, you know,” Dorothea flirted, absentmindedly stroking a lock of fuchsia hair that tumbled atop her. “I could get used to this. Just you and I for the rest of forever… spending our lives in our country....”

“I would be liking that greatly!” Petra enthusiastically agreed. “I cannot be waiting much longer! I am hoping that we will be allowed to go to Brigid soon.”

“Hm… I wonder when exactly my prison sentence will end,” Dorothea wondered out loud. “Maybe I’ll ask Edie tomorrow, get some more details on all of that. I guess we’re supposed to be soldiers and all that, but it doesn’t look like we’re heading towards a war anytime soon. Fódlan’s been peaceful for a few years now. Maybe she’ll let us go if I ask nicely!” It was wishful thinking, but it was hard to tell with Edelgard. There was plenty still a mystery to Dorothea about the woman, including her relationship with Byleth. Perhaps it was time for the two of them to sit down and have a chat. 

Petra allowed herself to indulge in that far fetched fantasy for just a moment, smiling radiantly. “I will have to be telling my grandfather all about you. He will be filled with great joy to know that I have met my soulmate in Fódlan!” she gushed, eyes brimming with excitement. “I am sure he will be liking you. My grandfather is a very kind man.”

Thank goodness, since Dorothea would  _ hate _ to deal with a grumpy man who was less than enthusiastic about a commoner snatching up his royal granddaughter. “Sounds like a plan. But for right now, I’m getting a bit tired. So why don’t we wind down and cuddle ourselves to sleep? We can do all that in the morning.”

“That is sounding like a plan to me!”

Petra rolled off of the top of her lover, so that she could snuggle up side by side with Dorothea, arms pulling her into a comforting embrace. Sparks flew as the vampiress wholeheartedly returned the action, allowing herself to relax completely within the warmth of her soulmate. Almost every single night the two of them would cuddle, and yet, this time, it felt different. They no longer were snuggling up together as mere roommates, scared of their nightmares and seeking solace within the comfort of one another. Now, they were doing so as a pair of lovers, so deeply interconnected with one another. It was so very hard for Dorothea to sleep when her beautiful lover was right there by her side, tempting her, but the exhaustion from a day spent training forced her to leave any thoughts behind. 

All that could be saved when she had  _ far _ more energy to fulfill all her fantasies.

* * *

Edelgard sighed as another letter crumpled from her fingers, disintegrating to mere ash before it could reach the floor beneath. The irritated emperor leaned upon the armrest of her favorite chair, exhaustion clouding her features.

“Your Majesty,” Hubert spoke up, gazing at her with piercing yellow eyes. “Lord Arundel is expecting us to make a move. Perhaps you have delayed it thus far, but time is wearing rather thin. Given that you are a vital part of their ambitions, they will not simply allow you to remain passive.”

“So I am. But if they wish to utilize me, I will not simply stand idly by and allow it. Though I was once called their greatest creation, I cannot bring about salvation for their kind.” Blue eyes burning bright with determination, she locked gazes with her servant. “Those Who Slither in the Dark… their ambitions shall be crushed by my own hand.”

A malicious grin formed upon Hubert’s face as he chuckled lowly. “As I thought. Perhaps we should make a move after all… just not the kind they were expecting.”

“Yes. The war that we’ve been waging so silently for many years is about to bare its fangs to everyone in Fódlan. Make sure that all of our troops are prepared, Hubert..”

“Of course, Your Majesty. Anything for you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking this fanfic will be one more chapter? I edited most of this on my phone so I hope there weren't any funky typos.
> 
> Anyway I don't really have much to say about this chapter... just thank you for your continued support and look forward to the ending! I absolutely love the comments I've gotten thus far and they've really made my day, so thank you to everyone who's supported this fanfic thus far! I hope this chapter is good.


	5. Part Five: Before the Hurricane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long to get this up. im a bit tired of writing huge blocks of chapters, so this one is shorter than usual.
> 
> also its pretty sappy and borderline nsfw-ish (but no actual sex is described, sorry)

All of a sudden, the nightmare Dorothea had been trapped within dissipated into pure bliss.

It was though every worry that had ever plagued her had evaporated into thin air, leaving behind nothing but a heart swollen with pure love for her beautiful soulmate. Every day, she woke up to the euphoric sight of her lover draped within thickets of sheets with a warm smile gracing her features, eyes reflecting such passionate yearning. Mornings would be spent with limbs tangled together, bodies pressed against one another, lips whispering words of devotion. Dorothea could never seem to be able to pry herself from her sweet love’s embrace, and often, they would spend minutes or even hours simply basking in each other’s presence before they left the comfort of their bed. 

Petra was Dorothea’s, and Dorothea was Petra’s—and by the Goddess did Dorothea want the whole entire world to know that. Romantic gestures between the two were not confined merely to their room, and soon enough, knowledge of their relationship had spread throughout the entire Adrestian Army. Almost everyone was gossiping about Dorothea and Petra, the vampire and werewolf who had fallen hopelessly in love with each other. 

“I’m so happy for you, dear,” Manuela told the vampire one afternoon as she poured herself a cup of tea, the aroma spreading throughout the currently empty infirmary. Such was the usual status of the facility without any ongoing war, aside from the occasional scrapes during training sessions, giving Manuela and Dorothea plenty of time to simply chat with each other. “I was so worried for you, what with all the vampire business, but it seems it all worked out in your favor.”

Dorothea was simply glowing as she beamed, sitting across from Manuela with a tea cup simply filled with water. Though most human substances disagreed with her vampiric stomach, water was easy enough to stomach despite how utterly boring it was compared to the exquisite taste of her lover’s blood. Unfortunately, such a thing was limited in supply and certainly not freely available whenever she pleased, so water had to suffice. “Oh yes, Manuela. It certainly has,” agreed the vampire, a dreamy look in her eyes. “My darling love is the most wonderful thing in this whole world. I absolutely wouldn’t trade her for anything, and I’d go through all that pain and suffering a thousand times over if it meant spending my entire life with her.”

The older opera singer laughed slightly at how very lovestruck her former student was. “Oh honey, you have it bad. I’m glad you’ve finally found someone who treats you with an ounce of respect.” Manuela knew well about all the horror stories of past so-called “romances” that Dorothea had experienced. Of course, she was no stranger to such nightmare dates herself. “Meanwhile, I haven't found a single man even remotely interested in spending a night with me! Can you believe it? I haven’t the slightest idea what the problem is, either! It can’t be my looks, can it? Have I gotten so old that my beauty has already faded?” 

Ah, there she went again. Dorothea felt a twinge of remorse within her stomach. Not only a year ago she could have related to such worries, especially about the cruel hands of time tearing away her beauty. Now, such anxieties were little but a distant memory. For an immortal vampire who would never age, fretting over aging was a huge waste of time. She could only hope that Manuela didn’t resent her over it. 

“Well, if it all doesn’t work out for you, you could always come to Brigid with us,” Dorothea suggested offhandedly. “Who knows, maybe you’ll meet the man of your dreams? I’m sure he’s out there somewhere. He just has to be!”

“You plan on moving to Brigid?” Manuela asked after taking a sip of her still too hot tea, resulting in a perhaps more startled expression than she had intended. “Well, I suppose that’s only natural… I just hadn’t thought of it. Petra is the queen to be, after all.” She mused a bit over Dorothea’s suggestion, a wistful glimmer within her eye. “Brigid probably has all sorts of handsome man. I suppose I’ll have to at least consider it. It’ll be strange not having you here in Fódlan, after all… I feel like a mother sending her daughter away to be married! How very strange.” 

“Well, it’s not  _ all _ that different. You’re the one who saved me, after all,” the vampire reminded the older woman. “I wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for you.”

“I appreciate the flattery, Dorothea. Still, just how long until you end up leaving for Brigid?” asked Manuela. “I don’t recall anyone ever telling me how long they intend to imprison you for.”

Ah… Dorothea’s face fell as the subject changed. “Well, about all that,” she began, swirling the teacup full of cool water with a conflicted expression. “I talked to Edie and asked her if Petra and I could leave soon… and, well, she just told me that she couldn’t let us. Didn’t really give me any explanation as to  _ why _ she couldn’t, but… well, it’s all rather concerning. I know Edie has a lot on her hands, but she seems… different, recently.”

There was plenty about the emperor of the Adrestian Empire that still remained shrouded in mystery. Despite having served underneath her for several months now, Dorothea still had never gotten a solid answer about exactly what species she was. By all means, Edelgard von Hresvelg appeared to be a completely normal human. She ate and drank like a human, a clear indication that she was not a vampire, but at the same time… something was just  _ off _ . Humans had a different scent to them, a different aura to them. Recently, she was spending most of her time alone with Hubert or Byleth, rarely making public appearances or even speaking to anyone else. 

Something was clearly going on behind the scenes, but no one was willing to give Dorothea answers. 

“She has seemed rather busy, hasn’t she?” remarked Manuela. “But I suppose that’s just the emperor for you. The empire isn’t going to rule itself, you know.”

That made sense, but… even so… The vampiress could not shake the apprehension growing within. 

“Do you know what Edie is?” Dorothea asked. “I don’t get the sense that she’s entirely human, but…” If anyone were to know, wouldn’t it be the head nurse of the Imperial Army? 

Manuela frowned. “You know, I’ve been wondering the same thing myself. She’s never actually come here with any injuries, not since I’ve been in charge anyways. She’s always training, and yet, not even a single scratch to report. It strikes me as rather odd, don’t you think?” 

Very odd indeed, Dorothea agreed in her mind as she took a sip of cold water. Strangely, with each word the two women exchanged, with each minute that passed by, the young opera singer felt as though her future in Brigid was growing further and further away.

Something was looming over Fódlan.

“Hm… well, I’ll get my answers,” Dorothea decided aloud. Clearly, Manuela knew absolutely nothing, and it wasn’t as though Edelgard or Hubert were simply going to cough up what they knew. “I’ll just take matters into my own hands.”

Manuela looked a bit puzzled by Dorothea’s declaration. “And how do you intend on doing that?”

To that, Dorothea smirked. “I’ll use my special training, of course! Being a vampire has its perks beyond the whole immortality thing. I’ve gotten quite good at them, and I suppose it’s time to put it to practical use.”

The older opera singer was clearly not satisfied with such a vague answer, but she seemed willing to simply shrug it off. She took a sip of her tea, which had by now cooled to a more bearable temperature. “Well, do tell me if you find any juicy gossip. I’d love to hear.”

“Of course, Manuela. How could I resist telling you?” Dorothea agreed, a mischievous glint within her green eyes. “You know how much I adore gossiping with you.”

“Some things just never change!” Manuela laughed.

* * *

With a healthy diet of fresh blood from her lover, Dorothea was stronger than ever. Through days of meticulous research and vigorous training, the woman had nearly mastered the art of transformation. The tiring constraints of remaining within the shape of a bat had grown far less taxing upon her body, and she found that she could now do so for extended periods of time. Though it was certainly fun to simply flutter about her room while Petra watched in amusement, the vampiress had quickly caught onto more practical uses for her new, smaller form. She could squeeze herself into small spaces and conceal her presence amongst the shadows, useful for whenever she wished to eavesdrop. Never before had she attempted to use such a power for anything other than listening to idle gossip about herself and Petra, so she wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t be caught by a more keen-eyed vampire like Hubert… But it was worth a try.

After shifting into the form of a fluffy bat, Dorothea snuck into the room of Edelgard’s right hand man while he was off dealing with extraneous errands and hid herself within the closet, snuggling into a white glove that sat upon a shelf. From there, it was playing the waiting game as the skies darkened, bringing out the ominous night that a monster like her thrived in. The hidden vampire had remained within the comfort of the strangely soft glove for about an hour before footsteps alerted her to the presence of another being within the room.

Hubert.

The servant let out a long sigh as Dorothea heard him pull the chair out from his desk. The clinging of a quill tapping the side of a glass full of ink indicated that he was busying himself with paperwork. With little else to do, the small bat occupied herself by daydreaming about her gorgeous lover, imagining her upon the beaches of Brigid, happy and free. It was nearly enough to make Dorothea nod off into a deep slumber…

...Thankfully, the creak of an opening door once more jolted her to attention. 

“Hubert!” It was Ferdinand’s voice that spoke up. “I’ll not have you avoiding me any longer!”

Long, drawn out groan resounded from Hubert’s throat. “I do not recall giving you permission to simply barge inside my room. Hardly befitting of nobility, wouldn’t you say?”

Ferdinand didn’t seem too pleased at Hubert poking at his weak point. “Well, yes, but… never mind all that! We need to talk. Now.”

“Must we?” Hubert sighed. “I’ve not even had my evening drink. No thanks to you.”

The unsteady groan from the wooden floorboards indicated that Hubert had stood from his position. Though it was rather hard to tell what was going on without vision, Dorothea surmised that the two men were likely walking towards one another. Heavy breathing filled the near silent room, and the hidden bat was left to simmer in a cocktail of confusion and worry. 

“No!” Ferdinand shouted suddenly. “I won’t let you drink until you answer my questions. All of them.”

Hubert’s grumble of annoyance echoed through the room. “Fine. But make them quick. I’m rather… thirsty.”

“You and Edelgard… you’ve been up to something, haven’t you?” the human man accused. “Does it involve Lord Arundel? I’ve heard he’s coming to visit, and soon.”

“Perhaps so,” the vampire servant answered vaguely. “We must be prepared for his arrival, after all.”

“And Lord Arundel… he has something to do with the group you were talking about. Those Who Slither in the Dark… who exactly are they?”

Those Who Slither in the Dark… Dorothea’s ears twitched. That was certainly a group that she had never heard mentioned before. Given that they bore such a macabre name, she couldn’t imagine that they were up to any good. 

“A group of ancient vampires,” Hubert replied rather swiftly. “Is that all you wished to ask? My throat is getting drier.”

“You are rather impatient, Hubert!” scolded Ferdinand. “If you hate speaking with me so, why don’t you find someone else to drink from?”

There was some shuffling from the other room. The walls vibrated as someone was pushed up against it. 

“You know why,” Hubert whispered so quietly that Dorothea wouldn’t have been able to hear it if it weren’t for her vampiric senses. “How revolting that your blood is the only I can drink.”

“H...Hubert,” breathed Ferdinand. “I...I’ll not be swayed by your… tactics! You haven’t given me a proper answer yet. Should I be concerned about these ‘slithers’ or not? Edelgard has been training more and more, and don’t think I haven’t noticed how busy some of the knights’ schedules have become. You’re preparing for something… something big. Are we going to have a war on our hands?”

For a moment, Dorothea had been quite worried that she had unintentionally spied on something else and gotten an earful of intimacy she would have rather not heard, but Ferdinand was stubborn enough to draw out the answers the both of them sought. 

“I cannot tell you that,” Hubert answered. “Just know that Lady Edelgard has been working hard to avert anyone unnecessary from being dragged into this mess. What she desires is a peaceful future for humans and beasts alike, not a reign of vampires like Those Who Slither in the Dark. However, if such a future requires war, that is the path we will be taking.”

War… Dorothea’s transformed body shuddered at the mere thought of the possibility of war. If the Empire were to engage in war, it made sense that Edelgard insisted on keeping her and Petra locked within the confines of Fódlan. It was obvious that the months of training had granted the new vampires powers beyond human capabilities, yet, at the same time… Dorothea had already vowed to herself not to kill anymore humans, to stow away her violent powers and utilize them only to protect. Would she have to break that promise to herself already?

She had little time to think on it, for a gasp sounded out from the other room. Dorothea peered through the narrow blinds in the closet door and saw Hubert and Ferdinand just out of the corner of her gaze. Ferdinand was pressed to the wall, Hubert’s looming figure pinning him firmly in place. The sinister vampire leaned forward, fangs reaching desperately for the other man’s neck.

“Hubert…” groaned Ferdinand. “You still haven’t—”

“Please, be quiet now. Let’s save all that for later… I’m not particularly in the mood for political talk.”

Suddenly, Dorothea found herself wishing to be anywhere  _ but _ trapped within the confines of a tiny closet with absolutely no escape. Even if she were to somehow manage to sneak out of the closet unnoticed, she would have no way to open the locked bedroom door. She shut her eyes and buried herself deep within the comfort of the white glove, distracting herself with thoughts of her beautiful Petra. What was she doing right now? Oh, she hoped that her darling wasn’t missing her too much. It wasn’t looking as though she would be able to leave anytime soon. She hoped with every fiber of her being that the two would leave their escapades at only blood sucking, for she had no idea what she would do if the situation were to escalate beyond. That would certainly make for an awkward several days… or months.

Thankfully, it appeared luck was on her side. After listening to a rather intimate session of blood drinking, the two of them stepped apart. 

“I expect more answers tomorrow, Hubert,” Ferdinand told him sternly. “I’ll not let you seduce me out of proper knowledge! Not again! I’m going back to my room.”

“Disappointing, but fine. I believe I’m supposed to be meeting with Instructor Byleth for more training regardless. I’ll hold you to something more proper in the future.”

“Yes, yes… goodnight, Hubert.”

“Goodnight.”

After Ferdinand left, Dorothea waited painstakingly for the older vampire to vanish as well. Though she had gathered quite a bit of information, she was still shaken from being on the cusp of bearing witness to… well. Unwelcome intimacy. As soon as the room had been evacuated, Dorothea escaped from the closet and retreated back to the safety of her own room, far away from the two men.

Yet, all the same… she was left wondering. She wondered about Those Who Slither in the Dark, and about the possibility of an upcoming war. Anxiety was beginning to bubble up within her stomach, leaving her feeling horribly queasy. All she wished was to escape Fódlan and live out her eternal life upon the shores of Brigid, hand in hand with her beautiful soulmate. Fighting in a war hadn’t exactly been on her list of plans. 

Dorothea certainly wasn’t a religious woman by any means. Back when she had been a starving orphan upon the streets of Enbarr, she often had prayed to the Goddess out of sheer desperation for salvation, for something that would save her from starving, alone and forgotten. All of her pleas had simply fallen on emptiness, leaving the terrified young girl hopeless and void of all belief. If the Goddess were truly as wonderful and kind as the people of Fódlan claimed, then why did she allow for Dorothea to suffer so? Yet, now, she silently prayed that war would not come, that she could soon leave this horrid continent that had treated her so cruelly forever. 

* * *

As newborn light from the rising full moon peeked through the castle windows, Dorothea maneuvered her way down the hallways to return to her and Petra’s room—or rather, their love nest, as they had begun affectionately referring it to. No one dared to unlock the room while the two lovers lurked within, knowing well enough to give the two girls their much needed privacy. Never did she have training upon the nights of the full moon so that she may tend to Petra, just in the off chance that anything went wrong. Though the knights had insisted that Dorothea herself was the key to sealing away the beast within Petra and that she must remain by her side at all times, the vampire had never exactly seen it that way. It had always been the princess’s strong will that had convinced her to finally fight back—her voice had merely been the catalyst.

When Dorothea opened the door to the room that had been meant to cage her, she was immediately greeted by the sight of her beloved, who immediately began to wag her tail with unadulterated glee. No longer did the night of the full moon scare her so. 

“Hello, my sweetest,” greeted Dorothea as she closed the door behind her, making sure she sealed the lock shut. 

“Dorothea! My beloved!” cried Petra. “I have been waiting for you all day. Please, be sitting beside me.”

The vampire certainly didn’t need to be told twice. She eagerly stepped towards the bed and plopped herself down amongst the numerous hide sheets, which had doubled in number over the last few weeks. Petra always loved to gift her lover with tokens of her hunts, so that their cozy love nest could expand evermore. The respite offered by the warmth of perhaps far too many blankets and her beautiful lover cuddling up against her offered some calm to her anxious heart. Days had passed since her little espionage mission, and she had yet to find any clues related to her newfound knowledge.

Petra nuzzled herself into Dorothea’s neck, arms wrapping around her lover’s waist. “My love. I am so happy to be seeing you,” she whispered. 

“Me too, Petra. Me too,” agreed Dorothea, basking in the aura of love. Yet, even as she sought to relax, there was an underlying anxiety pecking at her, disturbing what was supposed to be her time to wind down. Petra, as perceptive as always, noticed the hints of worry upon her: the smile with the twitching curves, the slight hitch in her breath. 

“You are worried about something,” Petra stated. It was not speculation on her part, but a fact. Her expression turned downcast. “How can I be helping you?”

The vampire’s heart twinged. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s nothing. I’m always just a bit anxious. You know this,” she attempted to reassure her, hoping her weightless words would quell her love’s worries if only a tad.

Unfortunately, Petra was not convinced. “I am not thinking that is the issue,” she objected. “Please. Be telling me the truth.”

How foolish of her to expect that to work, Dorothea thought to herself. Regardless, she had hoped not to worry her sweetest over matters she hadn’t fully explored, but it seemed cruel to simply let Petra suffer in her concern. “Well. I was just thinking… everything’s been great and all, but we still haven’t been able to leave. Edie says it’s not time yet, but… why?” she pondered. “Not only that, but Hubert’s been up to something he won’t share. He’s been coming to training less and less… I just don’t know what it is, Petra. Little things like that make me think something big is coming.”

“Something… big?” Petra repeated. 

“Yes. Like… a war,” the vampire suggested.

Petra’s ever excitable tail drew to a slow halt. A contemplative look overtook her face. “That is having possibility,” she spoke. “But that is only being one possibility. Lady Edelgard may be wanting us to stay so I can be negotiating ties with Brigid, and Hubert… maybe Hubert is going on dates?”

Dorothea coughed a bit as memories of what she had nearly overheard filled her brain. Hubert and Ferdinand… it wasn’t a pair she had exactly expected, given how the vampire seemed to have a distaste for the future prime minister. Love had been found in odder places, she supposed. “Well… about that… maybe.” It didn’t seem right to divulge private information that she had accidentally happened upon, especially when matters of romance were involved. As much as her younger self loved talks of romance, she was hardly the type to dig her nose where it didn't belong. “Still though, I can’t help but worry. We’ve just found each other, and… well, I don’t want to lose you already. If it’s really a war, I…”

The werewolf pulled herself away from the comfort of her lover and sat up, meeting Dorothea’s gaze with a serious expression painted over her face. “You will not be losing me, even if there is being war. I am giving you this promise,” Petra assured her in full confidence. “We are being soulmates, remember? The spirits of Brigid will be protecting us. They are wanting us to come home, so that we may be taking our place as queens.”

Dorothea’s heart fluttered at the pure romanticism of Petra’s words. Even though faith in higher beings was never something she had possessed, she believed in Petra, and knew she would hold true to every word she spoke. She was an honest person at heart.

“Oh yeah? Which spirits?” she asked, mouth curving into a now genuine smile as curiosity grew. “There’s a lot of them, aren’t there?”

Petra nodded. “Yes! But I am thinking of the spirits of love. They are said to be guiding people towards their soulmate, and protecting them,” she elaborated. “Now that they have been bringing me to you, they will be protecting us.”

Such a romantic legend, Dorothea thought to herself. Fódlan could do with a few more of those. The more Petra told her about Brigid, the more excited she grew for their future together, when she would finally get to leave this horrid continent behind. “How wonderful…” the vampire mused, meeting the gaze of her lover. She lost herself in those beautiful brown eyes, filled to the brim with pure love and adoration. Her fingers reached out to caress Petra’s soft cheek, earning a small giggle from the other woman. 

“My love,” Petra spoke. “I have something to be showing you tonight…”

“Oh? What would that be?” Dorothea asked. “I nearly forgot it was a full moon. How much longer until you transform?”

To that, Petra just smiled. “Do not be worrying about that. For now, let us indulge in each other…”

Dorothea did not object as Petra’s lips dove forward, catching her own in a passion-filled kiss. The vampire’s left arm held her love steadily around the waist, while her other sought to tangle her fingers within tassels of braided, burgundy hair. She returned the kiss with full fervor, spilling out the depth of her feelings to the surface. Though they constantly fought the need for air, they did not give into it for long, as they soon found their lips returning to one another, just as if they belonged pressed up against each other. In the back of her mind, Dorothea was aware of the clock ticking, of the moon rising ever higher in the sky, but she cared not. All that mattered in that moment was feeling, tasting, being with her Petra.

Finally, their lips parted. The tip of Petra’s nose lay upon Dorothea’s own as a brilliant smile spread throughout, making her look as radiant as the sun itself. Dorothea brushed a stray lock of hair that tumbled from her love’s forehead back behind her ear. 

“Oh, Petra,” she breathed. “My everything. We were meant for each other.”

“I am in agreement,” replied Petra. “You enchant and fascinate me every day, my love. It gives me great joy that we are getting to spend our lives with each other.”

The vampire shivered under the depths of the other woman’s affection for her. Never did she think she could love so deeply, not when the men she spent her time with failed to invoke even the slightest sparks of affection from her. She had been looking in all the wrong places, and it had only been a horrid curse that had brought her to her one and only. Life certainly was strange.

“Petra…” whispered Dorothea. Though there were no windows in what used to be their prison cell, the nocturnal creature within her knew that night was nigh. “It’s almost time, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Petra affirmed. “Do not be worrying, my beloved. I will be fine.”

“Still… It’s hard for me to kiss you when you’re a wolf,” lamented the vampire with a crooked frown. 

Such a complaint earned a gentle laugh from the princess. “You do not have to be fretting over that,” she assured her. “Soon, you will see.”

“All right. If you say so, darling.”

Dorothea intertwined her fingers with the hand of the woman lying atop her, awaiting the moment the silver moonlight would claim her, force her to transform with screams of agony. Her eyes closed as she mentally prepared herself for that heartbreaking suffering. 

But it did not come.

“Petra…?” Dorothea spoke as she peered an eye open. Usually, at around eight o’clock, Petra’s body would begin to shake with the beginnings of transformation. But the clock on the wall indicated that it was half past nine, and there was no signs of it. “Shouldn’t it have started already?”

A huge grin crept its way upon Petra’s face as her tail began to wag with glee. “Surprise!” she shouted, unable to contain her excitement anymore. “This is what I had to be showing you. I have been training my transformations, so that I can be controlling them however I am wanting.”

Dorothea blinked in shock, having trouble believing what Petra was even telling her. “Wait… really? Petra… you didn’t even tell me you were trying that…!”

“That is because I was wanting it to be a surprise,” Petra elaborated. “Besides, I was not knowing if it was going to work on a full moon. But look! No transforming.” As if to demonstrate, she sat up upon Dorothea and flipped her hands over, which showed no indication of growing fur or sharpened nails. “I am not even feeling any pain. Oh, I am having such joy that it worked!”

It took a moment to process the full extent of Petra’s accomplishment, but once she did, Dorothea began to laugh with delight. Warm tears rolled down her cheek as her chest bellowed with laughter, unable to control herself. 

Petra cocked her head to the side, concerned. “Dorothea?” she addressed.

“Oh, Petra! My Petra!” Dorothea gushed in between shaky breaths. “I can’t believe this…! You’re so incredible, my Petra! I always knew that you had it in you, that you were strong enough to overcome your transformations! Oh, I love you so much!”

At that, Petra’s tail increased speed, looking like a hurricane of wags. She was simply beaming with pride, her chest puffed out in victory. “I am loving you too!” she cried. 

Not wasting a moment longer, the two of them crashed their lips together again. On this glimmering full moon, free of curses, they intended to take full advantage of their extra time together. Petra lightly licked at the bottom of Dorothea’s lip, forcing her to gasp and open her mouth. The werewolf took advantage of the situation and plunged her tongue into the depths of her lover’s mouth, seeking to deepen their kiss. Their tongues danced together in a slow yet sensual rhythm, as if moving to the song of their pounding heartbeats. Dorothea let out a small whimper as she felt a sudden burst of intense desire in the back of her dry throat. 

“Dorothea,” murmured Petra after pulling away, her lips just millimeters away. “I know what you are wanting.”

“Petra,” rasped Dorothea, feeling her thirst growing. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You are never hurting me when you are drinking from me. In fact… I am loving it when you do,” whispered the princess, eyes gleaming with a sensual glint. “Please, Dorothea. I am wanting you to drink my blood.”

That was all the assurance Dorothea needed. Within a split second, their positions were flipped. The vampire now loomed atop her lover, fingers playing with the locks of hair that lingered over her neck. Dorothea’s mouth opened slightly, allowing the tips of her fangs to reveal themselves. Her fingers brushed over the crook of Petra’s neck as light as a feather, feeling the rush of delicious blood within. Her emerald eyes turned glowing red with hunger. 

Oh, how she hated this monstrous feeling of bloodlust. Yet, the way Petra’s eager eyes stared up into her vampiric ones eased the self-loathing within, if only a touch. Her long fangs fully unveiled themselves, and the princess beneath did not even flinch. Dorothea’s fingers gripped Petra’s shoulders as she pressed her nose to the werewolf’s neck, breathing in her tantalizing scent. Her tongue grazed the soft skin that awaited her there, earning a shiver from her lover. She nibbled lightly at the sensitive flesh, loving the soft noises that escaped from Petra’s throat.

“Oh, Dorothea!” gasped Petra. “I am needing you.”

How fun it was to tease her lover, but Dorothea was not a cruel woman. Her monstrous fangs bared themselves before burying their way deep inside Petra’s neck, immediately flooding Dorothea’s mouth with a deliciously sweet nectar. Within Petra’s blood, she could taste every fragment of emotion, every unspoken word that she had been unable to phrase in the language of Fódlan, and every single one of them was about how much she loved Dorothea. It was as though she was peering into the deepest corners of her love’s mind, and Petra was welcoming every moment of it. As Dorothea fed upon her, Petra shivered and moaned underneath, fists gripping at the fabric of the vampire’s blood red dress. 

“Dorothea, Dorothea!” she repeated, voice laced with need. “I am wanting you!”

Dorothea groaned into Petra’s neck as she continued her feast, basking in the extent of the huntress’s love for her. This terrifying ritual of sucking the very life essence out of her victims had become something entirely different, for Petra was not a victim, but a willing participant who was thoroughly enjoying every second. With the sensual noises she was emitting underneath, it was impossible that she was even feeling any pain at all: only deep, deep pleasure. Dorothea could taste it on her blood, like rich wine.

Knowing she could allow herself to take too much, Dorothea forced herself to pull away. Blood dripped from her fangs to her chin, rolling off onto the sheets. Eyes that were still a radiant red locked onto Petra’s lovestruck gaze, the princess not even put off by the sight. It mattered not that Dorothea’s face was caked with blood and her beautiful green eyes had been replaced by something monstrous: Petra still loved her.

“You are being so beautiful, my Dorothea,” Petra breathed. “Please. I am wanting more of you…”

“Petra… you really mean that?” Dorothea asked, not wanting to get the wrong idea.

Petra nodded, fingers sliding downwards. “Yes,” she confirmed. “I am loving you more than anything, Dorothea. It would be giving me great joy to be sharing everything with you…”

Dorothea felt a shiver down her spine, anticipation building within. She knew beyond a doubt that Petra meant it—she had tasted the desire in her blood, after all. Though the thirst within her throat had been sated, for now, her body was still wanting more of Petra. 

“I could taste it, you know,” Dorothea spoke. “How much you love me. But… I’d like to see it. I’d love it if you could show me, Petra...”

A mischievous look crept its way upon the huntress’s face. “If you are wanting that, then… I will not be holding back. I hope you are having readiness.”

“Oh, I’ve never been more ready for anything, my beloved.”

The rest of that night was spent in a tango of bliss: of names upon each other’s lips, of cries of passion, of bodies sliding together, of curious fingers and tongues exploring. The full moon shimmered in the sky above, having been defeated by the love two women had for each other, for what could be a more powerful force in the world than that? For just that night, the anxieties of the unknown future were forgotten, and the anxieties of looming war halted. 

If only it could stay that way forever.

* * *

“Good morning, my love.”

Those gentle words were enough to rouse Dorothea from her peaceful slumber, laced with dreams of an everlasting, peaceful future. Her green eyes peered open, revealing the sight of her still naked lover, locks of loose fuchsia hair tumbling downwards. A soft smile graced Dorothea’s features as she gazed upon the heavenly sight of her love. Though there were no rays of sunlight to highlight her features, she still looked like the sun itself. 

“Good morning, Petra,” whispered Dorothea, still locked within a reverie of love. She folded her arms behind her head and stretched her upper back, soothing muscles still a tad sore from late-night activities. Smoothly, she slid her arms around Petra’s bare back, bringing the other woman’s skin to her own. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes!” Petra confirmed. “My dreams were full of you, Dorothea.”

Dorothea giggled. “Me too,” she admitted, bringing their noses together.

The two women simply basked in each others embrace, neither wishing to face the activities the day had to offer. Though Petra was usually a diligent worker, her desire to train had faded in the glow of the temptation Dorothea offered her. The vampire shut her eyes as she allowed her mind to drift off to pleasant thoughts, recalling the fond dreams that had graced her slumber. 

It was only the unpleasant knock at the door that forced them away from each other.

“Are you two still sleeping?” came Hubert’s deep voice, with a hint of annoyance. He was wise enough to know that unlocking the door would likely grant him a sight he cared not to see. “Her Highness is requesting your presence immediately… for urgent business.”

Suddenly, all the anxieties Dorothea had forgotten about filled her heart once more, forcing her to slide from her covers and unlock herself from Petra’s embrace. Worry danced within her green eyes as she felt a lump of lead form in her throat.

“We will be coming shortly!” Petra shouted, freeing herself of the sheets as well. 

“Good. Do not keep her waiting,” Hubert’s voice spoke. “Now then.”

The faint echo of his footsteps sounded out from the hallway as Dorothea’s mind swirled with a hurricane of thoughts. While Petra had hopped from the bed and immediately got to work on dressing herself, she remained as if frozen to the mattress. What sort of urgent business would Edelgard need of her…?

“Dorothea!” Petra called to her. “We must be getting ready!”

“Uh, yes, yes…” Dorothea responded, though her words betrayed her actions. 

Whatever it was Edelgard wanted from her, she certainly hoped it didn’t involve rumors of a certain war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so its been like two months and i apologize, i had no idea how to move forward with this fanfic but i THINK i've figured it out. half of this chapter was written like two months ago and i hope it doesn't show too badly hrtjgefdks
> 
> anyway if you liked this... please leave a kudo and a comment. it really goes a long way! i love hearing what people think about my fanfic and i apologize if this fanfic is pretty


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